


Resurrecting Relationships

by Emachinescat



Series: Next Generation [2]
Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Finding You Again. The Hardy family is readjusting after 15 years to Joe's return. Someone is intent on spoiling their attempts at bringing old relationships to life, however. The Assassins Superior are gunning for revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own, for entertainment purposes only, though the next generation kids are my creation. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

_"This is the last night you'll spend alone. Look me in the eyes so I know you know I'm everywhere you want me to be. The last night you'll spend alone, I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go; I'm everything you need me to be."  
 **"Last Night" by Skillet (ForeFront Records) from Comatose**_

* * *

He stood at the window, the dim streetlight across from the house reflecting in his moist blue eyes. He felt so strange, being here, back home, knowing that life had moved on during his fifteen year absence. So much had changed since that day he had been kidnapped on his morning jog when he was twenty-one years old.

For fifteen years he had lived as the Assassin Superior, Eric, in the secret base of the terrorist group deep within the jungles of Romania. No one had searched for him during those years, because they all thought he was dead, thanks to a clever ruse by the Assassins Superior that made his detective father and brother believe that he had been killed in a bomb blast. He had been brainwashed and converted into an emotionless, deadly robot killer. Using torture, hypnotism, and other advanced brainwashing techniques, they had stolen his identity as Joe Hardy and turned him into Eric.

He was put through over a decade of grueling, agonizing training that turned him into the Assassin. He was forced to endure blazing heat and frigid cold and unbearable torture to gradually make him unstoppable, almost immortal. He had learned to strike a bullet into the heart of the enemy from nearly a mile away. He knew how to fashion a weapon from almost any material available. Luckily, he hadn't had time to take a life before he had escaped, but he still knew that he was the greatest killer in the world nonetheless. He could kill better than any other assassin if he tried, thanks to his experiences in captivity.

Thankfully, right before he was about to go through with his first assignment, the assassination of presidential candidate, Philip Walker, he had been approached by two kids—a blonde girl with blue eyes identical to his and a young man with dark hair and blue eyes. The girl claimed to be his daughter, and the boy, his nephew. They had convinced him to leave with them, to abandon his mission and flee from the Assassins Superior.

It had taken a while, but eventually his daughter, Joline, who had risked everything to find him again, had managed to penetrate the barrier that the Assassins Superior had deviously constructed around his mind. He had remembered that he wasn't Eric; he was Joe Hardy.

It was the happiest moment of his life when he was reunited with his older brother, Frank, who was his best friend. Frank had thought Joe had been dead for fifteen years, and, considering his brother was still alive, had taken the news rather well.

Joe sighed and watched as his breath clouded up the window as he gazed down Elm Street in Bayport, glistening from the frost of late November. That had been just yesterday. He had been reunited with his family: his father, Fenton Hardy, and mother, Laura Hardy, his brother, Frank, and his wife Callie, and their three kids, although he had only met the oldest before—Darren, the one who had accompanied Joline on her rescue mission. The other two, twelve-year-old Joey and four-year-old Jessi Marie, he had just now met. He had hugged his wife again for the first time since his prolonged abduction. All thanks to the daughter he hadn't even known existed, due to the fact that Vanessa was only one month pregnant and they didn't know about it when he "died".

After a brief family reunion at his parents' house, his wife had insisted that he come home and get to bed. But Joe had hesitated; he felt awkward, even around all his loved ones. Life had charged ahead full speed without him and now he was behind, struggling to catch up. He hadn't seen Vanessa or even known she existed for fifteen years. The thought of going home with her and sleeping in the same bed with her, no matter how appealing the thought, didn't feel right, normal. Was she even still his wife? She'd been a "widow" for over a decade, did being dead annul the marriage? He didn't think so, but it was almost as if they were meeting again, for the first time. He didn't feel right about it and he had looked to his older brother, his protector, for help.

Frank had quickly suggested that perhaps this was all too fast for Joe; he needed time to adjust. Why didn't he stay at Frank's house for a few months, until everything got back to normal? Joe had jumped on the idea, although he could still see Vanessa's hurt but understanding expression in his mind's eye. Frank had taken him on a quick tour of his beautiful, white, two-story dream house, then gotten him settled in the guest room. After giving him a crushing hug and exclaiming about how unbelievably incredible it was to have him back again, Frank had reluctantly left the room.

Joe smiled slightly against the cold glass of the window. He and his brother's relationship was different than most siblings; they had always been much closer than even identical twins tended to be. Best friends, they had also been partners in detective work. In fact, they had been on the brink of starting their own Hardy Brothers Detective firm when Joe had been "killed". Joe wondered with a start if that was still a possibility or if he'd have to hunt for another job in the near future.

Joe had tried to sleep, but his mind was on overload. He kept remembering tidbits that he hadn't before, pieces of scattered memories and lost dreams. He had finally, at around one in the morning, posted himself in front of the window, feeling so out of place and unsettled that he didn't know if he should even stay here—maybe he didn't belong in Bayport anymore.

He felt a gentle hand grip his broad shoulder and spun around. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts—the emotions were so strong, maybe due to the fact that as Eric, he had had no emotions—that he hadn't noticed Frank coming up behind him. Even in the dark, he could see the worried gleam in his brother's eyes and Joe felt ashamed that he felt a prick of moisture in his own eyes at the love in his brother's gaze.

"Joe...are you okay?"

The emotions that had evaded Joe for fifteen years came flooding back with astounding force and he felt his lower lip quiver like that of a small child. He wasn't able to hide the gut-wrenching sob that rose from somewhere so deep inside of him, he didn't even know where it came from. Instantly, Frank's strong, steady hands guided him to the bed and helped him sit down. Holding his "baby brother" close to him, Frank murmured words of comfort in his ear. Joe's shoulder's jerked up and down as he sobbed into his brother's shoulder.

Thirty-seven-year-old Frank Hardy held his brother tightly, rubbing his back and stroking his wavy blonde hair. "Joe..."

He knew that his brother had to be going through some major mental agony right now, considering all he had been through in the past fifteen years. He himself couldn't believe that Joe wasn't dead, that he was really here, holding his brother like he thought he would never be able to do again, being his protector and best friend...being Joe's brother. That was why he had come to check on Joe, actually. He had woken up and thought that the happenings yesterday were too good to be true. He had wanted to check, to make sure that Joe really was back and alive.

He tightened his grip on his brother as his muscular body was racked with sobs. "Joe..." he said again after his brother had grown quiet. Joe pulled away, wiping at his eyes, embarrassed, but Frank wouldn't have that. He quickly put an arm around Joe's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Joe, do you want to talk about it?"

Joe shook his head, but said, "I'm so confused and lost, Frank. I don't know what to do, how I can possibly still belong here after all these years. I've missed so much, I just...I don't..."

Frank rubbed Joe's back. "I know, Baby Brother," he said softly. "But you  _do_ belong here. Despite what you've been told for the past fifteen years, you are  _not_ Eric. You are still Joe Hardy, and I, Frank Hardy swear that I will not rest until I have helped you re-establish your identity and become who you were always meant to be."

Joe looked imploringly at his brother. "You think that's possible? I mean, I don't even _know_ my daughter or even my wife anymore. Everyone has changed and gone on without me." He paused, then cast a shy glance at his big brother. "Well, everyone except for you," he added.

"Joe, I've got some ideas for getting things back to normal," Frank said softly, and saw his brother look up in interest, "but I think that should wait until tomorrow. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I...I can't," Joe admitted, humiliated.

Frank guided his brother onto the pillow and lay down on the queen-sized bed beside him. He wrapped his reassuring arms around Joe just like he had done many times when they were younger and Joe needed someone to comfort him.

When Callie Hardy went to the guest room the next morning to find out why her husband had never returned to bed, she smiled softly and quietly went downstairs at the sight of the brothers asleep, Joe snuggled in Frank's embrace, looking peaceful for the first time since he had returned.

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Darren Michael Hardy sat at the table later that Sunday morning, a loaded plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes before him, thanks to his mother. As far as he knew, his dad was still upstairs discussing a plan of action with Joe, about how to best help him adjust to this new life. Darren's mom had run out to the store for a little while, in order to get the turkey for the big Thanksgiving dinner at Fenton and Laura's on Thursday. He heard an urgent knock on the front door and reluctantly left his breakfast to greet the visitor.

His cousin and best friend, Joline, jumped at him as soon as the door opened, tackling him in a huge hug. The fifteen-year-old's eyes were shining gleefully and when she spoke, her voice was filled with happiness and excitement.

"Whoa, JoJo," Darren laughed, hugging his excited cousin back, grinning in amusement. "What are you doing here so early? And how did you get here?"

"Mom dropped me off on her way to the store," Joline answered promptly, standing on her tippy toes and trying to see around Darren into the rest of the house. "Where's Daddy?"

Darren chuckled. He should have known that Jo's enthusiasm wasn't concentrated on seeing him; her excitement was on the prospect of seeing her father again; the father everyone else had presumed dead for fifteen years. He still couldn't believe what had transpired over the weekend; it was unreal. Joline elbowed him in the ribs.

"C'mon, Darren, where is he?" she insisted, nearly bouncing in her anticipation.

"He's in the middle of something, Jo. Mom told me this morning that he and Dad are pretty much going to be tied up all day, doing business stuff, making phone calls, and trying to get Joe settled into a routine."

Joline pouted. "He should be able to spend time with the rest of us. It isn't fair for Uncle Frank to hog him all day."

Darren crossed his arms and shook his head. "Jo, stop it. You're the one not being fair. I know you want to spend time with your dad, but you've got to think about what he is going through himself right now. For heaven's sake, JoJo, he's been, for all intensive purposes, dead for the past fifteen years! You don't expect him to be able to just instantly transition back into everyday life?"

Joline stared at her cousin, her eyes filled with tears. "No, I don't. But I just want to be there for him, too.  _I'm_ the one who found him. He needs  _me_."

Darren felt a twinge of anger at her rash words. "I think you mean that  _we're_ the one who found him, Jo. And yeah, I'm sure he wants to see you, too," the older boy said in a more gentle tone, "but you have to let him come to terms with everything in his own time and his own way. He and my dad were extremely close when they were kids, and right now, I honestly think that my dad is your dad's lifeline right now. Joe's not going to ever be able to catch up and live fully again if we hamper his progress. I know it's hard, JoJo, but we've got to give Dad and Joe the time they need to help Joe return as smoothly as possible to his old life."

Joline glared at Darren, even while admitting to herself that he was right. She knew she was being selfish but she felt that her emotions should be justified. Finally she sighed and nodded. "I guess you're right. But do you think they'll have any time for us today?"

Darren nodded. "Mom said something about maybe inviting you and Aunt Vanessa over for dinner tonight if Joe's up to it. Until then, do you want to go find Joey and Jessi and take them to the park? That will give us something to do instead of hanging around the house."

Although what Joline really wanted to do was to spend time with her father, she nodded. "Sure."

Darren grinned. "Joey and Jessi Marie'll like that," he commented, referring to his younger siblings, Joey at twelve years old and Jessi Marie four. "Let me go okay it with Dad and then we'll head out."

Joline nodded as Darren raced up the stairs to make sure Frank was okay with them taking the kids to the park.

* * *

Frank was sitting on the bed in the guest room next to Joe, his mind still reeling that his baby brother was indeed alive and back with him. Joe had been very quiet all morning, declining breakfast and staying in the bedroom. Frank had instantly opted to stay with him; he didn't think his brother needed to be alone at a time like this, and frankly, he didn't want to be away from Joe, either. He was terrified that he would leave the room and Joe would somehow disappear into thin air. He was so afraid that he'd lose his brother again.

Frank had insisted that they try to devote the next few days entirely on getting Joe's affairs straightened out, re-connecting with his old friends and life, and doing everything possible to help get him back into the swing of things. Right now they were merely in the planning stage, going over all that needed to be done and trying to decide when the best time would be to do it. Frank knew that Joe had too much to worry about right now and that the more things that were done and out of the way, the better.

As they were about to start, there was a knock on the door. Frank sighed, having hoped for minimum interruptions during his time with Joe, but with three kids in the house and his wife at the store, he had known it was going to be a false hope. "Come in," he said, shooting an apologetic look at his brother. Joe shrugged and grinned slightly.

Darren poked his head in and smiled at his father and uncle. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but Vanessa just dropped Joline off and she's itching for something to do. Dad, do you mind if I take her and Jessi and Joey off your hands for a few hours and go to the park? We'll be back in time for lunch."

Frank smiled gratefully at his oldest son, and nodded enthusiastically. "That would be great. You guys have fun, and we'll touch bases later."

"Gotcha." And Darren sprinted out the door and down the stairs.


	2. These Are My People

_"These are my people, this is where I come from. Giving this life everything I got and then some. It ain't always pretty, but it's real. It's the way we're made, wouldn't have it any other way. These are my people."  
 **"These Are My People" by Rodney Atkins (Curb Records) from "If You're Going Through Hell"**_

* * *

**_Three Months Later_ **

Joe Hardy smiled slightly as he stretched his heavily muscled frame and stared out of the same window he'd gazed through of three months ago, the night he had first come to his brother's house. So much had changed…the view hadn't, but Joe had. For the better.

Over the past three months, Joe had regained much of his old identity, and while his time as Eric would never be forgotten, he got farther and farther from Eric and closer to Joe. He wasn't the same Joe he had been before his abduction—one couldn't go through something so traumatic, living fifteen years as a completely different person, without becoming someone new. But he was himself and everyone loved him for it, and that was all that mattered.

Over the past three months, his brother had been his rock and his reason not to lose himself in his regrets and past. Without Frank, Joe knew that he would have never come this far. The day after Joe's return found Frank calling up all their friends and telling them the good news—although Joe wasn't ready to see any of them again just yet, he  _was_ alive and on the road to becoming reacquainted with Bayport and his old life again. Thankfully the Network had taken care of all the calls to the government and any official people who needed to know that someone who was certified as "dead" was now certified as "alive". That had been one less burden off of the family's chest.

The unneeded gravestone marking an empty casket was removed and the spot in the cemetery was dug up and cleared, ready to be sold as a new plot. Joe didn't go out of the house much, only to visit his parents and wife. He was still living with Frank and his family, but he was making remarkable progress with his own. Frank had suggested that Joe get counseling after everything he had been through, as well as having marriage counseling for he and Vanessa. Joe only visited the therapist once a week now, and he and Vanessa were meeting with the marriage counselor every Tuesday and Thursday and making great progress. They had started to reconnect and go on dates, and had shared a remarkable "first kiss" that Vanessa proclaimed trumped their first one.

He knew it was hurting Vanessa, who had missed him so dearly, to be there with him, so close to her husband, yet have to be wary and cautioned around him. He hadn't been ready…he knew she understood this, but that didn't make waiting on him to truly come back to her any less difficult. Vanessa had been extremely patient with him and still loved him unconditionally, and he was often reminded of why he had fallen for her eighteen years ago in the first place.

He had grown very close to his daughter and found that this fifteen-year-old girl was so much like he had been at that age…still so much like he was now. He was so very proud of her and loved her so very much. Next to Frank, he spent more time with Joline than anyone.

He found that Frank's family was truly a blessing. Callie had been very supportive and was way nicer to him than Joe could ever remember in the past. It was a change, but a good one. Darren was smart and funny and athletic and very grown up for his age of seventeen…just like his father had been. In fact, Darren reminded him greatly of his brother and after observing his daughter and Frank's eldest son, he realized that these two shared a bond very similar to Frank and Joe's—and he admired them for that.

Joey was a hoot. At twelve years old, Joe had officially dubbed the hyperactive, blonde-haired, green-eyed trouble-maker his "mini-me"—not so much in looks but in actions and personality. Joey was funny and athletic—the star on his soccer team.

And little Jessi Marie…that little girl was a treasure. Four years old, with light blonde hair and big brown eyes—just like Frank's—the child was tender, gentle, honest, and simply precious. She could walk into a room and melt the hearts of everyone in it in seconds. The best part was, with her wide-eyed innocence and black and white view of the world, she loved unconditionally.

Joe blinked back tears from his sapphire eyes. He was extremely lucky. And about to get luckier. Tonight a big party was being thrown at Frank's house—a "Welcome Back From the Dead, Joe" party, as Joe had suggested and the kids had painted on the banner, tongues firmly planted in cheeks. All their old friends were going to be there, along with their families. It would be the first time Joe would see any of them, save for Chet, who had been by for dinner several times and had rejoiced in having Joe back from the dead.

The prospect of becoming re-acquainted with the people he had known in his past was making him nervous, however. Honestly, everything that had happened to him before the abduction was still a little fuzzy and felt like it was from another life—someone else's other life. He was a different person now, and even though his family accepted it, he would be getting to know his old friends all over again.

He glanced out of the window again and saw Frank outside, working on the preparations for the party. Almost as if he sensed his brother's gaze, his brown eyes found the guest bedroom window and from two stories down, he met his brother's troubled glare and offered a reassuring smile.

That's when Joe knew that everything was going to be okay. How could it not? He had Frank.

* * *

A loud raspberry noise broke the silence in Darren's room as the boy and his cousin worked on some final preparations for the party that night. For a moment all was quiet and then Joline busted into peals of uncontrollable laughter at the rude-sounding noise. Darren rolled his eyes but wound up laughing anyway as the dark blue balloon zoomed around the room, letting out air and emitting a gross noise as it did so.

"You so did that on purpose!" the mortified teenager accused the giggling girl sitting on the floor, hunched over in laughter.

Joline shook her head, still shaking. "N-no, I didn't." She looked up into her cousin's blue eyes and broke into a spurt of laughter again. "Okay, so I did, but it was getting a little too quiet in here. I had to—" (giggle) "—liven things up."

Darren shook his head and chuckled. "I feel so sorry for your dad."

Joline automatically stopped laughing and looked concerned. "What do you mean? He seems to be doing pretty well, considering. And we're having a party for him tonight! He's gotta be happy or it'll ruin everything!"

Darren immediately sought to calm his irate relative. "Chill, Jo. Sorry, didn't mean to get you all worked up. All I was  _trying_ to say was that I feel sorry for him…because there he was, a powerful, wealthy assassin-in-training and then he found out who he really was and got  _you_  and your silly antics as a reward. Some bonus. Personally, if I were him, I'd've been good with getting my life back and maybe even a sports car or something  _cool_ , but he got stuck with you…some people have  _all_ the luck."

He had to duck as Joline took a roll of streamers from beside her and chucked it at his head. Laughing, the best friends went back to their preparations, thinking that everything was falling into place, just like it should be.

* * *

Later that evening, a huge crowd was gathered in Frank Hardy's backyard, awaiting the arrival of the "guest of honor". Frank knew his brother was somewhere in the house, trying to psyche himself up for this moment, revisiting the figures from his past for the very first time. He scanned the crowd of familiar people that he had spent the past fifteen years grieving with and loving and growing closer to. This was all new to Joe. Not only was he going to meet some new people, but he was going to reacquaint himself with the old people, just as if he were meeting them for the first time.

There were their parents of course, still up there in age but looking so much younger after such a burden was taken off of their shoulders at the return of their youngest son. Callie as well as Vanessa and her mother were standing beside them. Chet, of course, was right there in the middle of the crowd, looking the part of the owner of a growing toy company in his tan slacks, light purple button-down shirt and dark purple tie with yellow polka dots, his fiancé, the beautiful and well-known journalist, Liz Webling, on his arm.

He saw his friend Tony Prito and his beautiful wife, Rosa talking animatedly with Chet and Liz, their two kids milling nearby, looking a bit bored. Jacob, the eldest, at sixteen, was looking around as if he were searching for someone. His little sister Kara was pulling on her brother's sleeve, trying her hardest to get his attention. Phil Cohen, a brilliant computer programmer and one of Frank's best friends, was smiling like Christmas had come early. His wife, a pretty raven-haired woman named Stephanie and their eight-year-old daughter, Libby, stood beside him.

Then there was Biff Hooper and his girl-of-the-week, a sweet red-head named Cyndi who had a smatter of red freckles across her small nose. Biff claimed Cyndi was "the one" but Frank had a feeling Biff would be at least sixty years old before he actually ever settled down with anyone. Frank shook his head at Joe's old best friend.

A few other people were there, including some old classmates and acquaintances that had probably crashed the party just to see if Joe Hardy had indeed returned from the "dead". He started as he saw a beautiful girl standing at the edge of the crowd, looking a bit lost and confused. She had sleek, waist-length black hair, pale skin, and green eyes. She looked a bit familiar but Frank couldn't place her name. Their eyes met and she offered a small smile and a brief wave before walking away and not looking back.

Baffled, Frank turned back to his audience and announced, "Okay, guys, I know you all are excited to see my brother again, but you have to realize that this is really new to him. He's kind of changed. He's going to be nervous and a lot of staring and goggling isn't going to help him with that. So can we try to be as normal as possible?" There was a wave of nodding heads and murmured yeses. Before Frank could continue the back door banged open and Jessi Marie and Joey raced outside, faces red and eyes shining.

"He's coming, he's coming! My Uncle Joe, he's coming!" Jessi proclaimed with excitement. In actuality, it sounded more like, "He'th coming, he'th coming! My Uncle Joe, he'th coming!" because the little four-year-old was missing her two front teeth. Of course her impromptu performance along with her cute little lisp caused her to receive a round of "Awwwww"s from the audience. Frank lifted his little girl, patted his twelve-year-old son on the head and stepped out of the way so that Joe could come out.

Everyone was staring at the door, anticipating the re-emergence of someone they all held dearly, that they had thought lost to them for fifteen years. When he finally did appear, there was silence. He slid out of the door, more fit and muscular than he had ever been before, his still bright-blue eyes extremely apprehensive, closely followed by Joline and Darren. Waving slightly he grinned self-consciously and said, "Hey, guys."

Everything erupted then. Cries of excitement, happiness, and even disbelief. Joe felt hands grab him from all directions and pull him forward, words of love and friendship being uttered from every which way. He found himself smiling, not at all the attention, but from all the love he felt. Yes, sir. Everything was going to be okay.


	3. You Belong With Me

_"Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry. I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me…"_

**_"You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift (Big Machine Records) from Taylor Swift_ **

* * *

"Hey, Joe, remember me?" thin, wiry Phil Cohen grinned as he gave Joe a big hug and thumped his old friend on the back.

Joe grinned. "Vaguely," he teased. "Weren't you that computer geek that always gave my brother a run for his money when it came to nerdiness?"

Pretending to be shocked, his old friend chuckled and said, "Well, that's a nice way to make a friend." Grinning, he slipped a lanky arm around the thin waist of the beautiful woman with him. "This is my lovely wife Stephanie." He nodded to a little girl, a miniature version of her mother from the ebony hair to the soft hazel eyes, who was sitting in the grass, chatting happily with Jessi Marie. "And that's our daughter, Libby."

"She's beautiful," Joe said truthfully, looking at the little girl. A sly smile on his face, he turned back to Phil and Stephanie. "You  _both_  are." He winked playfully at the couple and Phil feigned indignity. "I can't believe you, Hardy—you've been back from the dead for three months and you think you can steal my wife just by batting those baby blues? You sicken me!"

Joe laughed out loud and turned as someone else tried to catch his attention. Why had he been nervous about this at all? These were his people, this was where he belonged.

* * *

"I know you've seen a lot of me lately, but you haven't had the chance to meet my lovely fiancé," Chet Morton grinned as he proudly presented his betrothed to his approving best friend. "This is Elizabeth Webling."

"I know Liz," Joe chortled, but reached his hand out and shook hands with the smiling journalist nonetheless. "We've known each other since the second grade when I put pudding in her purse."

Liz's mouth fell open. "That was  _you_? You told me it was Bobby Blankenship!"

Joe grinned devilishly. "I lied."

Just as Liz was preparing to smack Joe with her purse (this one pudding-free), Chet interceded and pouted, "Joe, you didn't let me finish my introduction. I knew you know each other, but I had something else I wanted to say…"

Joe shook his head in amusement. "Have at it buddy."

"Joe Hardy, meet my lovely fiancé, Elizabeth Webling, newly instated reporter and journalist for the illustrious _New York Times._ "

Joe's eyes grew wide as he grinned at his old friend who was blushing from the attention. "Really? Congrats, Liz! That's great!"

Blushing even harder, Liz muttered, "Well,  _you_ came back from the dead. That isn't exactly a small feat either!"

* * *

A few minutes later, Joe was embracing his old best friend, Biff Hooper. "Biff, man, it's great to see you!"

"Joe…I never thought I'd hear your voice again," Biff grinned, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his left hand. "Bug in my eye," he said in explanation.

" _Both_ of them?" Joe asked mischievously. Biff laughed.

"Same old Joe."

Joe shook his head. "No, not really. A lot has changed, buddy."

Slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder, Biff led Joe to the picnic table set up and asked, "So, wanna talk about it? Like, what all have you been up to in the past fifteen years, anyway?"

Surprised, Joe felt it was a relief to talk to someone else about his ordeal. Not that he didn't like talking to his brother, because he did, more than anything, but Frank needed a break and besides, Biff was a pretty good listener, too.

* * *

"Tony, my man!" Joe called out as the handsome Italian accompanied by a gorgeous woman and a girl that looked to be about Joey's age.

"Joe!" Tony grinned, hugging his friend and giving him a hearty slap on the back. "What's going on with you, buddy? You know, besides being not dead and all that?" he laughed, nodding toward the "Welcome Back From the Dead, Joe" poster hanging above the back door.

Joe grinned. "That was the kids' idea," he lied and quickly changed the subject. "So who is this lovely  _Singora_ accompanying you?"

Tony's eyebrows popped up. "Since when did you know any Italian?"

Joe grinned innocently. " _Posso fare le cose ora che non credereste il mio amico._ " *

Tony gaped. "If it wasn't for your blonde hair and blue eyes, I'd swear you were a full-blooded Italian!"

Joe shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Well…training to be an assassin for over ten years had its advantages. Not only did I get totally ripped," he flexed his muscles jokingly and then got serious again, "but I became fluent in German, French, Spanish, Italian, and even some Japanese. I guess a good assassin has to be able to communicate with a heck-load of people."

Tony grinned. "Wow, now I can't insult you in Italian and you not know it!"

"Hey!" Joe laughed and elbowed his friend. "Anyway, as I asked earlier, who is this lovely lady?"

"This is my wife, Rosa." He indicated the younger girl beside Rosa. "And this is Kara, my daughter. And this—" He glanced around for someone but sighed in defeat. "Well, I was going to introduce you to Jacob, but he's already disappeared." He looked around a bit more and his eyes lit up. "Ah-ha! There he is, talking to Joline." He grinned at Joe. "Just between you and me, I think my son has a thing for your daughter. He had a crush on her in second grade and I don't think he's ever really gotten over it."

Joe's eyes widened as he watched the two teenagers interact, Jacob grinning and talking about something animatedly, Joline giggling happily at whatever it was he was saying.

"Hum," was his reply. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about  _that_ newsflash!

Someone else demanded his attention then and he turned to occupy them then, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in three months. He really felt like he was home again and nothing— _nothing_ —was going to take that away from him!

* * *

Joline had just left Darren at the snack table when she felt a hand brush her elbow and withdraw just as quickly. She spun to see Jacob Prito smiling warmly at her and for some reason her heart seemed to skip a beat. His black hair was nearly to his shoulders, a bit shaggily cut but stylishly so. He wore dark blue skinny jeans with a black-and-white-checked belt just for decoration. His lean but muscular torso was covered in a snug, white t-shirt that complemented his tan skin perfectly. A short-sleeved black jacket and thin red tie completed the ensemble. Joline liked the way he dressed. Not a cardboard cut-out of the average "cool" kid but not creepy goth guy either. More like the mediocre emo kid without all the depression and weirdness. He was pretty cool.

"Hi, Jacob," she greeted him, a genuine smile lighting up her pretty face. Her blue eyes flashed with happiness. "Can you believe this? Just four months ago, everything was…normal…now it's…better! I've got a dad and everyone is reconnecting! It's just so cool!"

Jacob nodded, his dark eyes never leaving Joline's blue ones. "I really admire you, Joline," he said seriously. "You risked everything to find someone that everyone else thought was dead. You're a true hero…everybody at school thinks so. They talk about you a lot…I overhear them sometimes. All the girls are either jealous that you're so much braver than them or going all fan-girl because they want to be you." He chuckled. "And all the guys are trying to work up the nerve to ask Ms. Detective to the Winter Formal next month."

Joline gaped. "Guys are thinking about asking  _me_  out?"

"Thinking?" he scoffed. "They'll be lining up as soon as one of them gets the nerve!" Joline's eyes widened. "That's why…that's why I had to talk to you before one of those spineless jocks work up the guts…"

Joline looked at her friend oddly. "What are you talking about, Jacob?"

"If I don't act now, then I'll lose my chance," Jacob said. He locked eyes with Joline and said, "Joline Hardy, I've had a crush on you ever since I met you eight years ago and it's done nothing but crush  _me_ as I've sat back and not done anything about it…well, now I am. I really like you, Jo. A lot. I may even love you. I don't know how you feel but I had to get it out…you mean the world to me."

Joline stared at Jacob, dumbfounded. For a moment she didn't say anything and Jacob looked down at his feet, sure he made a mistake. When he looked up a spark had lit in her eyes and he knew he was wrong—he hadn't made a mistake. Without a word, unconscious of all the eyes of his friends and family on them, Jacob Prito cupped Joline's face in his slender hands and leaned down, pressing his lips gently against hers.

A jolt of electricity surged through him and he vaguely wondered if Joline felt it too. By the way her arms tightened ever so slightly around his waist and pressed her lips just a bit closer to his, he knew she had. His stomach lurched excitedly. They had chemistry! He finally understood the old phrase about "sparks flying". If sparks fly when two people click, then they must be setting off a firework show, he decided.

Suddenly aware that both his father  _and_ Joline's were out there, probably watching him kiss her, he felt his face flush slightly and he gently pulled away from Joline and held her gaze for several long seconds. Looking into her beautiful face, he wondered if he'd just discovered Heaven on Earth.

* * *

Tatiana really wanted to go to the party at the Hardy house. She had seen that absolutely amazing-looking blonde man several times since he had returned. She had to meet him—she  _had_ to! Something about him made her shiver…but  _not_ in a good way. She knew who he really was…knew he had done things that would make this happy little group of party-goers kick his sorry butt out onto the street. She hated him because of what he had done to her family…he had torn them apart, literally, at the seams…

He was going to pay, one way or another.

* * *

_*** "I can do things now that you would not believe my friend."** _


	4. Swept Away

_"The evil fell from your pretty mouth wrapped in your classic voice. Angelic in your syntax, demonic in your motive. Your pretty eyes don't know."_

_**"Swept Away" by Flyleaf (A &M/Octone Records) from Momento Mori** _

* * *

Life was slowly turning into a routine again. Not the same routine it had been before the kidnapping, too much had changed because of it. But a new routine was being set in place for both Joe and his friends and family. Spring was getting closer and it was mid-April before the family knew it.

During Joe's absence, Frank had been working as a sort of free-lance private investigator, not working for any company but allowing the clients to come to him at their will. Now, however, he had approached Joe with the idea of starting their own detective agency. Joe had eagerly accepted. As he was starting to get a feel for normalcy in this life in Bayport now, he was truly ready to get back to what he and his brother had been doing before his kidnapping—solving mysteries, kicking butt, and taking names.

 

They hoped to launch their business over the summer. Right now it was merely in the planning stage, and they decided it would be best to wait until summer because Darren would be graduating from high school in May and that would take up much of Frank's time. Callie and Vanessa were all for the idea as well, glad that their childhood dream was going to become a reality after all these years.

In the meantime, Joe had gotten a temporary job as a security guard at the local Bayport Museum and was enrolled in night classes at Bayport University. Even though he was more than qualified to be a private investigator (especially after his stint as an unstoppable assassin-to-be), he needed a degree to  _prove_ he was qualified. He had already taken nearly three years of classes at the University before his "death". Luckily, after a visit to the Registrar's Office and a few calls from the upper levels of government—President Philip Walker was more than happy to set the school straight—the school agreed to dig up his old transcripts and allow him to finish classes—with a full scholarship, covering his books, tuition, and anything extra he needed. Saving the current President's life eighteen years ago  _did_ have its advantages. He should have his degree by the time Darren graduated from high school.

Joe and Vanessa were still not back living together, and Vanessa was starting to get discouraged. They had made amazing progress in the past five months, and they didn't even go to marriage counseling anymore! They _were_ still married for Pete's sake! But Joe seemed content the way their relationship was…Joe living at his brother's house, Vanessa and Joline still living at home. Although they saw each other every day, Joe still insisted on staying at Frank's.

If only she knew the truth…

Joe stood at the jeweler's front desk, closely inspecting the diamond ring he had spent every dime of his paychecks from the last five months on. Thankfully, Frank had insisted on Joe not chipping in on groceries or anything while he was staying. Normally Joe would have insisted on helping pay for his stay, but he needed every cent for this.

The ring was a clean-cut diamond with a tint of light blue stemming from somewhere deep within the stone. It wasn't huge, but it was beautiful, and it would match Vanessa's eyes perfectly.

The truth was, Joe wanted to make things official before he moved back in. If he could hold on one more month…he was going to propose to her after Darren's graduation party. Not during, because he didn't want to spoil his nephew's moment. But afterward, he was going to insist that he and Van take a walk on their own, since they were having the party at the park…they would stand by the lake…and he would ask her to marry him…and they would make it official…Vanessa's fairy tale would come true. Then he would go home and they would be a family. He and Vanessa and Joline.

Everything changed when the jeweler eyed him critically and said, "Before you buy that and leave, I've got something for you. Someone came in here and asked if I could hand you this note. Normally, I don't do stuff like this, but she was so nice about it…"

Joe tore open the envelope and saw a message written in a curly handwriting:

 _I know who you are. You're not the great hero everyone thinks you are. You're a cold-blooded killer. You killed my father, my mother, my brothers and sisters. Everyone else may think you're some great person back from the dead, but I know your secrets—all of them. I know stuff about you that YOU don't even know. And I'm watching you. I WILL get revenge for the death of my loved ones._  
Signed,  
Your Worst Nightmare

Joe froze and swallowed. "Who gave this to you?"

The jeweler shrugged. "Didn't tell me her name."

"What did she look like?" He had a sneaking suspicion who this girl was and if he was right, God help them all.

"Beautiful girl. Black hair, green eyes. British accent. Real fancy-dressed."

Joe felt relieved and desperately confused at the same time. So the note-bearer wasn't Anya, the head Assassin Superior's second in command. He knew that the girl had escaped when the Network had raided and he was afraid that she might come for revenge. But it obviously was not her.

"What's wrong? She your ex or something?"

"Something," Joe lied as he quickly paid for the engagement ring and numbly asked the man to lock it away until he came for it in a month or so. He sat in his car, wondering who on earth had given him that note and why. He looked at it again.

"You killed my father, my mother, my brothers, and sisters." The truth hit him like a fist in the gut.

"Oh, no…no, no, no…I can't believe it…no…" Tears filled his vision. How could he have forgotten such a thing? Rage burning in his chest, Joe fumbled for the keys and backed jerkily out of the parking space. He didn't know where he was going to drive…he just knew he had to get away…away from himself and his past…

He felt like throwing up. He remembered the assassinations clearly now. He had shot a man, a woman, and two other people in cold blood a few months after he completed his training. He had gone the past few months believing that while he was an assassin in training, he had taken no lives. But now, he could remember every stark detail. He remembered that beautiful girl as she escaped, tears running down her face.

_"You killed them! You killed them!" the raven-haired beauty, Tatiana, daughter of one of Britain's most prominent figures, shrieked, as she fell to her knees all four dead members of her family. "Mama, mama, please say something!" she sobbed as she took her mother's lifeless, bloody hand in her own._

_Eric glared down at her, unfazed by her emotional pain. He pointed the gun at her. "Get up," he ordered harshly. "Now."_

_The girl fell over the body of her father and wailed. "If you don't get up, I'll shoot you where you are," Eric warned._

_"I don't care…I want you to kill me!" the girl had choked out. "I don't have anything to live for—anything! You killed my parents, and my siblings! You are worse than the slime that the snails leave in their wake! You are a monster!"_

_Before he could stop her, however, the girl jumped up and started to run from the room. Eric tried to shoot her as she fled, terrified, from the scene, but his gun jammed and by the time he had fixed it, she was gone._

_He had gotten severely punished by Atol and Anya after he let that one escape. It had been the last time he had killed anyone for the Assassins Superior. They deemed him unworthy and put him through the training all over again._

Joe's eyes were so blurred from tears that he couldn't see the road. His stomach convulsed as he whispered, "Tatiana, I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry." He threw up as he was driving and the car swerved badly. He almost had control over it when a dark purple, heavy-weight sports car rammed into his brother's car he had been borrowing and shoved him off the road. The car broke through the guard rail and tumbled down a rough hill a ways.

When the car finally came to a stop at the base of the hill, Joe Hardy lay inside, slumped over the steering wheel, unmoving, a single drop of blood seeping from a gash in his head and staining the carpeted floorboard.

From somewhere behind him, on the back seat, perhaps, a cell phone played. Being unconscious, Joe couldn't answer it, but his voicemail dutifully picked up the missed call.

_"Yo, it's Joe. I'm not here so leave a message at the beep. Later!"_

If Joe had been conscious and coherent when the message sounded, he would have been chilled to the bone by the frantic tone,  _"Joe, it's Frank! Where are you? Something terrible has happened and you need to get home right away! Darren and Jessi Marie are missing and Joey's in critical condition at Bayport General! Joline's okay but really shaken up. You've GOT to get here as soon as possible. Vanessa and Callie are staying at the hospital with Joey, but we HAVE to start looking for the other two kids! Call me back AS SOON as you get this message, there's no time to lose!"_ And almost as an afterthought,  _"But be careful, bro. We don't want YOU getting in an accident or going missing too! Love you."_ Click.

Slumped over the steering wheel of Frank's car, Joe Hardy was oblivious to it all.


	5. Falling Through the Black

_"Tonight I'm so alone. This sorrow takes a hold. Don't leave me here so cold. Your touch used to be so kind, your touch used to give me life. I've waited all this time, I've wasted so much time...Falling in the black, slipping through the cracks. Falling to the depths; can I ever go back? Dreaming of the way it used to be. Can you hear me? Falling in the black."  
 **"Falling Through the Black" by Skillet (ForeFront Records) from Comatose**_

* * *

Jessi Marie's two front teeth had not grown completely in yet, and she was quite annoyed by it. "Okay, big brudder," she said in a bossy tone, glaring at Darren who was driving the Eclipse with Joey in the front seat. Jessi was sitting in the back and was about to give Darren an earful. "It's been two months since I lost them things and they aren't back yet!" Her lower lip trembled. "Did the Tooth Fairy forget about me?"

Joey snickered but Darren hushed him. "No, of course not, Jessi. The Tooth Fairy just has a lot of other teeth to make grow and she knows that you will look absolutely beautiful with or without those front teeth…she has to take care of all the kids that look silly first, and save the beautiful ones for last…and you're the most beautiful of them all."

Jessi Marie seemed satisfied with that answer. "Am I like a Princess Darren?"

Darren smiled. "The most beautiful Princess in the world, sweetheart. I love you little sis."

Jessi Marie beamed and Joey made a gagging noise. "Are we almost there?" he complained. "And remind me again WHY we have to pick Joline and Jacob up from their date?"

"Because," Darren said (not nearly as patiently as he had been with Jessi Marie), "Mom and Aunt Vanessa are shopping and have Mom's car and Uncle Joe borrowed Dad's car for some reason, and Jacob's truck is in the garage getting tuned up, so I'm the one picking them up. And since you guys didn't want to go shopping with Mom and Vanessa and since Dad's busy working on plans for the detective agency, guess who gets to go with me to pick them up?"

"Yeah, yeah," Joey grumbled, not really in the mood to witness two twitterpated teenagers be all googly-eyed and drooling all over each other.

"You know, you COULD actually act like a civilized human sometimes," Darren commented harshly, glancing over at his brother.

Joey glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it sounds like. You know I love you, kid, but you can be such a jerk sometimes. You do know that there's other people in this world besides yourself, right?"

"Whatever," Joey said. "Let's just get this little love fest over with cuz you know there'll be some kissy kissy tongue action going on in the backseat—"

Darren cut his brother off, "Shut up, Joey. Just shut up. How and when Jacob and Joline kiss is NONE of your business. You're being immature, self-centered, and—"

"STOP FIGHTING!" little Jessi Marie screamed as she stared, wide-eyed, out of the back window.

A purple, heavyweight sports car was aiming for their vehicle. Instantly alert, Darren focused all his energy on staying on the road and not crashing. However, after an incredibly powerful blow from the vehicle, the car spun off the road and landed in the ditch—right on Joey's side.

The crash itself only took a few seconds, but to Darren, it was a lifetime. He heard his brother and sister screaming and heard the crunching metal. He felt warm blood slide down the side of his face and called out… "Joey! Jessi! You guys okay?" There was no answer. Sobbing, Darren felt light headed and felt consciousness leaving him. As he was drifting off, he felt rough hands grab him and start to drag him from the car.

A low, gravelly male's voice rumbled, "I've got the oldest, but that other boy is too badly hurt…he'll be more trouble than he's worth. Leave'im."

As Darren was about to lose consciousness completely, he thought desperately, "No, Joey, no, please not him. And Jessi? What about Jessi? You didn't mention my baby sister! Please, God, don't let them be dead, don't let them die…"

That was the last coherent thought that passed through Darren Hardy's mind before he zoomed away in the trunk of a dark purple sports car, which was headed in the direction of the local jeweler's. The two occupants of this car had mail to deliver...and possibly a new passenger to pick up.

* * *

At Bayport Mall, Joline clung to Jacob as she called her uncle's cell phone, wondering feverishly why Darren hadn't been here half an hour ago to pick her up…

* * *

Frank Hardy was on the brink of falling apart. He stood in the hospital waiting room with Callie, Vanessa, Joline, Jacob, and his parents. He had just finished calling his brother for the third time with no answer. His oldest son and his four-year-old daughter had vanished from the car wreck that had left his youngest son critically injured. His brother was missing and he and his father were left trying to console their respective wives and the trembling teenager huddled in the protective arms of her boyfriend.

Frank was torn. He  _needed_ to be out there, tracking down Darren, Jessi Marie, and Joe! But his twelve-year-old son was lying on a bed in the ICU and there was no guarantee he'd make it through the night. How could Frank leave the hospital? He knew that his wife or mom would call if there was any change, but how could he just desert his child? He remembered Darren and Jessi Marie. His other children needed him too. Joey was here, safer in the hands of experienced doctors than he would be anywhere else. Just having Frank here wasn't going to change his situation. That was all up God now, because he wasn't even sure the doctors could do anything for his little boy now. He choked on a sob.

On the other hand, his other two kids needed him. A wave of pain flashed through his heart as he imagined his handsome, intelligent son and sweet, cute little girl. Heat flared up his spine as he mentally cursed whoever had taken his children. His only consolation was the knowledge that, wherever they were, Darren would take care of and protect his baby sister at all costs. Tears blurring his eyes, Frank made his decision. He was not going to leave his children's fate in the hands of the local police, FBI, or even the Network, whom he had contacted shortly after the alleged kidnapping had taken place.

If Frank had known how terribly wrong things were going to go, he would have insisted on picking Joline and Jacob up from the mall instead of sending Darren with the kids while Joe ran his errands. He felt sick as he recalled the pure terror that had coursed through his veins when Joline had called, demanding anxiously to know why Darren hadn't picked she and her date up yet. Putting on a calm front for his niece had been nearly impossible.

It was then that Police Chief Con Riley had showed up at the door, and Frank had known that nothing good was going to come of this. No, indeed, nothing good at all. He had been informed by his old friend that Darren's lime green Eclipse had been found on the side of the road, totaled. Frank, Callie now beside him, clutching his arm so tightly it hurt, had demanded to know what condition his children were in.

Con had sympathetically told the distraught father that his youngest son had been on the side that had suffered the most damage and was already at the hospital being treated. They hadn't called to get Frank's permission yet because there had been no time; Joey's condition was that critical.

Frank had asked about Darren and Jessi, they were okay, weren't they?

When Con didn't answer right away, Frank assumed the accident had been fatal for his other two children. Con had quickly rushed to correct him, though he wasn't sure if the truth was any better than what Frank had supposed. "Frank," he had said softly, his voice low and soothing, "Darren and Jessi Marie are missing. From the looks of it, someone ran them off the road and took them. Best we can figure it, they left Joey because he was so bad hurt and they didn't want to deal with him."

Frank had nearly broken down completely then, just like his wife, who was sobbing uncontrollably in short, panicky gasps. Con had quickly pointed out that this most likely meant that they were relatively unhurt and that the Bayport PD had already contacted the FBI. They would find the kids in no time.

Frank had rushed to call his father, who had graciously kept a semi-relative head despite the terror that one of his grandchildren was seriously injured and two others were missing. He had offered to pick Joline and Jacob up from the mall and then meet everyone at the hospital. Frank had then placed the panicked call to Joe, needing to have his brother by his side. As he had dialed the number, he had thought about how glad he was that his brother was still alive…if he had had to face this without Joe, he wasn't sure he'd escape with his sanity…

And then Joe hadn't answered his phone. Frank had hoped, prayed, that his brother was simply in the middle of something and couldn't get to the phone. Two frantic phone calls later, as he made up his mind to start looking for his kids on his own, he realized that Joe had run into trouble, too. Frank turned to his father, "Dad, I've got to start tracking them down. I'm not going to leave my kids' lives in the hands of the Network."

Callie glared at him. "But Joey needs his father here!  _I_ need you here!"

Frank's reply was much harsher than he had meant it to be. "Yeah, meanwhile Darren and your  _four-year-old_ daughter are who knows where, and the only people on the case are a mediocre police force, a 'greater-good' minded FBI, and a sleazy government agency that cares about nothing but what's in  _their_ best interest! So why should I go and look for my kids? They're in good hands!"

Callie's lower lip trembled and Frank felt like the biggest jerk in the world. Sighing, he ran a hand through his already mussed brown locks. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I want to be here with Joey more than anything, you have to believe that. But he's in the hands of the doctors who are trained to deal with this kind of thing. I _need_ to start looking for our son and little girl."

Callie nodded and Frank enveloped her in a protective, loving embrace. "Bring them back, safe-and-sound?" she pleaded into his neck and he responded, his nose nuzzled in her citrus-smelling hair, "As long as you nurse Joey back to full health while I'm on the case."

She managed a teary smile. "I will." They released one another reluctantly and Frank turned to his father.

"Dad, can you stay here?"

Fenton nodded, understanding the warring emotions in his son's heart, and no matter how much he wanted to go on the search as well, he knew that Frank needed the assurance that his wife, mother, sister-in-law, and niece would not be alone during this. "Call me if there's any change," Frank requested.

Vanessa and Laura hugged him, followed by Joline. The fifteen-year-old looked into her uncle's eyes and begged, "Let me go with you! I want to help!"

Frank shook his head. "Sorry, honey. I need to do this alone."

He turned on his heel and left the hospital, feeling the weight of the sad stares on his retreating back. Scrubbing the back of his hand across his weary face, he focused on the task at hand—finding his kids  _and_ that kid brother of his.


	6. Monster

_"The secret side of me I never let you see. I keep it caged but I can't control it. So stay away from me, the beast is ugly. I feel the rage and I just can't hold it in…I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin. I must confess that I feel like a monster. I'm 'bout to lose control, it's something radical…I, I feel like a monster!"  
 **"Monster" by Skillet (ForeFront Records) from Awake**_

 

* * *

 

Joe Hardy awoke with a pounding headache. He groaned, shifted his head slightly, and forced his heavy eyelids to open. He blinked at the dim light from overhead and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the lean, black-clad, blonde woman standing over him.

His voice more of a growl than anything, Joe rumbled, "You!" and tried to leap at this dreaded woman—Anya, second-in-command of the Assassins Superior. He found he couldn't move, though. His arms and legs were strapped down to a hospital bed.

"Welcome back, Eric," Anya said with mock sweetness. "I hear you've been quite busy these days, what with your new family and all."

"I am not Eric," Joe growled menacingly.

"Yeah, I can see why you'd want to pretend you have no association with that monster," Anya taunted as she slowly, predatorily circled the bed to which Joe was strapped. "After all, he was a cold-blooded killer. Or don't you remember that London job you screwed up after our first attempt to put you in the field? We said we wanted five dead bodies and you gave us only four. Still…you did a  _splendid_ job executing those atrocious murders, despite the pleading and begging from that pitiful family of British dignitaries."

Joe paled, remembering the reason he had started to swerve in the first place before he had crashed—getting sick after remembering those four people he had killed… _he had killed._

Joe threw up again, turning his head sideways and splattering the tile floor. Anya wrinkled her nose. "Gross. I definitely like Eric better than Joe Hardy. Which is why I'm planning on getting Eric back to finish the job he totally botched all those years ago."

"I  _will not_ —" Joe began to protest, then eyed her critically. "What do you mean,  _finish the job_?"

"Isn't obvious? Tatiana Rodgers is tracking you down right now, trying to get revenge the death of her family. She's finally shown her face, thinking she's safe to act now.  _She has to die_ , just like her family. And you, my friend, are the perfect person to do it, you know, since you started this whole thing by killing her folks and all."

Though the sickness in his heart was on overload, Joe managed to put on a show of bravado. "No," he said. "I don't care how much brainwashing you do, I swear, I will NOT become that monster again. I'd rather die first."

Anya seemed to consider this seriously. "Hm. Well, if you die, then we'll have no further use for…" she trailed off as a door in the corner of the room burst open and two big men walked in, each holding a delicate hand of a little girl in their tight fists. Joe knew then that things were  _way_ worse than brainwashing. Way worse.

Jessi Marie, a dark bruise forming on her baby-soft cheek, sniffled as a tear ran from one of her brown eyes. "Uncle Joe? Are you here to rescue me?" she asked softly, obviously not understanding the point of the restraints keeping him held to the bed.

Joe lost it. " _WHAT THE HECK DID YOU DO TO MY NIECE? SHE'S HURT, YOU HEARTLESS PIGS! I SWEAR, IF I WAS FREE, I'D KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU ON THE SPOT!"_

Anya smiled. "That's what we like to hear—confidence in your ability to kill." She nodded at the men who escorted the tiny girl out of the room. Tears rolled down Joe's face as he watched her leave, not even allowed a glance back so he could console her. "And technically, we didn't hurt her—the 'accident' did."

"A-accident?"

"Yeah, she and those other two brats of your brother's got ran off the road by some _crazy_  driver. Of course, we hoped to get your daughter too but that older kid wasn't paying enough attention to the road and we couldn't pass up the opportunity to take what we could when we had the chance."

Joe whimpered. "Darren and Joey are here too?"

"No, your namesake was in such bad shape we didn't bother with the kid."

"NO!" Joe screamed, mindless of his restraints.

"But you listen here buddy, and you listen good. Unless you want to be responsible for the deaths of your nephew and that sweet, innocent little girl, you had better remember what it's like to be Eric. Because if Tatiana Rodgers isn't dead in forty-eight hours, they'll be having a  _triple_ funeral, do you read me?"

Anger, rage, pain, sorrow, regret, and confusion all ran together in Joe's mind. He couldn't think, couldn't believe how terrible everything had turned. How could he have been so naïve, thinking he could simply go back to every-day life? He was doomed to be a killer. Barely able to form a coherent word, he did the only thing his brain would process—nodded his consent.

* * *

Darren woke up to the sound of a door clanging shut. Moaning, he tried to sit up but found that his hands were tied tightly behind his back. Panic clenched his stomach at his restricted movement. He had never been tied up before and it quite honestly terrified him!

He forced his eyes open and glanced around the dingy, damp room that looked like it could have come straight out of Poe's  _Cask of the Amontillado*_. He shuddered at the thought.  _Not_ exactly the best thing to think of at a time like this. What had happened to him, anyway?

And then he remembered. Terrified, he screamed, " _JESSI? JOEY?"_ No answer. He was positive that his little brother and sister were dead. Anguish washed over him as he let his head flop back against the brick wall. "Nooooo…"

He jumped at the sound of the door opening. He felt both relief and absolute anger at the sight of his little sister, bruised but otherwise unhurt, being escorted into the room by two burly men in black. Assassins, he decided. They just reeked "killer".

They slammed the door behind the four-year-old and slid the lock into place from the outside. Instantly, Jessi Marie rushed for her brother, wrapping her precious arms around his neck.

Oh, how Darren just wanted to take his baby sister in his arms and sooth her, hug her, and just love her, but his hands were secured tightly behind his back. So he did the next best thing and let her hug him. His heart ached as he thought of Joey. He hoped that someone had found him in time. Until they found out, it would do no good to assume the worst. He would have to focus on the positive. Joey  _was_ alive and he would be okay…he just had to be.

"Jessi, are you okay?" he asked quickly. The little girl stepped back and nodded.

"I think so, big brudder," she said, then sat down beside him and nestled her head against the crook of his stretched out elbow. With his hands tied, it wasn't the most comfortable position, but he relished the feeling of his little sister just being there, being alive. "But I'm worried."

"Don't worry, Princess," Darren said softly, wanting to take the child in his arms more than anything. "We'll get out of here and I will not let them hurt you!"

"I'm not worried 'bout me and you, Darren! I'm scared for Uncle Joe!"

A bolt of anxiety flashed through Darren's mind. "What makes you bring up Uncle Joe, Jessi?" he asked.

"I just saw him!" the little girl said with wide eyes. "Those big men took me to see him and he's tied up on a bed!" Tears leaked out of her eyes. "I just wanna go home."

So they had Joe, too. This was way bigger than even Darren had considered. This might have something to do with the Assassins Superior, even. They  _had_ to get to their uncle and escape. But how?

Darren straightened up. "Jessi, listen to me. I need you to do something for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Darren scooted away from the wall and turned his back to his sister. "I need you to try your best to untie this rope," he said.

He heard Jessi Marie whimper. "But I c-couldn't even untie that knot in my shoelace the other day! Daddy had to do it for me! I can't do it!"

"Yes, you can, Jessi. Please, Princess, we don't have a whole lot of time. We've gotta save Uncle Joe and then get out of here, okay?"

"I guess I can try," the little girl said as he felt chubby fingers fumbling over the knots on his wrists.

Even if the child  _did_ get him untied, he wasn't sure how that was going to help them much. They were still locked in and he couldn't very well try something dangerous with his four-year-old sister to take care of.

All he knew was that they were in  _big_ trouble…and they had no guarantee that anyone was going to bail them out…they had to do this themselves. In a distant corner of his mind, Darren found himself wishing Joline were here—not that he wanted her captured, too, but his cousin always had a way of brightening any situation with her optimism and impetuous ideas for getting out of situations.

A rare bit of sunshine that he and Jessi could  _really_ use right now.

* * *

**_*Cask of the Amontillado is a story by Edgar Allen Poe where a man gets revenge on someone by chaining them to a wall in their wine cellar, then building a brick wall around them and sealing them in—without air. Yikes!_ **


	7. In the Dark

_"There's only artificial light here. My flaws hide well here. I used to be afraid of cluttered noises. Now I'm afraid of silence. Fill this space, idle words…Now I am mute despite myself. All of them are gone. The silence overtakes me. The idle words forsake me and I am left to face me. I'm held accountable for every idle word. Curse the idle word!"  
 **"In the Dark" by Flyleaf (A &M/Octone Records) from Memento Mori**_

* * *

 

Joe Hardy was in emotional turmoil.  _To kill or not to kill, that is the question? Whether 'tis nobler to refuse and cause the deaths of innocent children and by opposing kill_ them.  _Or to kill…to kill…and by kill we mean to murder…"_

It was a stupid, fleeting parody of Hamlet's famous soliloquy, but in actuality, Joe knew it to be true. He had been presented with a choice: kill a stranger or ultimately kill your nephew and your four-year-old niece. And no going to police, FBI, secret government agencies, or even big brother because you're being watched and the kids _will_ die if you attempt to make contact.

Not that it would have mattered. Joe wouldn't have gone back to Frank anyway. Not after what he had remembered. If Frank knew that Joe…no, Eric—but they were one and the same, weren't they?—had killed four innocent people and was gunning for a fifth, he would probably never want to see Joe again. And Joe would completely understand.

He had been released just half an hour ago. Luckily, his accident had left him only with a minor head injury and they had taken care of that with a gauze bandage and some extra strength pain killers before setting him free with strict orders to interact with no one unless absolutely necessary. He was "on his own" now, although he knew there were Assassin Superior eyes watching him at every moment.

He had been released in an alley behind one of Bayport's dingiest hotels. He had been blindfolded on the way so that he wouldn't know where he had been, in case he decided to defy the Assassins and tell somewhere where the kids were being held. Now he couldn't even if he wanted to. He had been left with a small handgun, a thin, deadly dagger, and a sniper's rifle. His instructions were simple: find Tatiana Rodgers and kill her within forty-eight hours. If he failed, Darren and Jessi Marie would die. If he succeeded, they would be released as long as Joe willingly went with the Assassins Superior afterward. Apparently, they wanted to brainwash him again. Or get revenge on him by slowly and painfully killing him. Either way, Joe felt it was a lose-lose situation. Still, if it saved Jessi and Darren, he would gladly go to his death. He had nothing to live for now, anyway.

* * *

Frank Hardy was on his way to the kids' crash site in his father's car. He had called ahead and had gotten clearance into the crime scene. He was to meet Chief Riley and FBI Agent Randall Waters and get any information he could in order to begin his own investigation. He kept thinking of his brother, praying that he was okay and had just gotten waylaid at wherever he had gone and just hadn't gotten the messages yet.

He sighed and his heart leapt back to the last sight he had had of his son before he had made the decision to join the investigation. Joey had been lying on the stark-white bed in the stark-white hospital ICU room covered in stark-white blankets and surrounded by beeping machines. His child…his little boy…

He sincerely hoped that he was never left alone with the people who had done this—he _did not_ fancy the prospect of spending the rest of his life in prison for first-degree murder!

The doctors had informed the distraught relatives that Joey was in serious condition. He had taken a bad blow to the head and that was something that was very troubling, especially since he hadn't shown any sign of regaining consciousness yet. They were worried about swelling of the brain. Even scarier was the news that the twelve-year-old's spine had been injured in the wreck. Until he regained consciousness (that is,  _if_ he regained consciousness) they wouldn't know the full extent of the damage, but they had said that paralysis and nerve damage would be a possibility. One thing they knew almost certainly: if Joey recovered, there was a 95% chance that the boy would never walk again, and that alone broke Frank's heart. His son had a passion for soccer…and his dreams, maybe even his life, had been stolen from him…

Frank growled…and his other two children had been stolen from  _him_ , their father. He would not stand for that! He would find Darren and Jessi if it killed him.

He felt so helpless…things couldn't possibly get any worse…

Word to the wise: Never, ever tempt Fate, because Fate just  _lives_ to prove you wrong.

He was almost to the 'accident' site when his phone rang. He answered tersely, "Yes?"

 _"Frank? This is Con…I just got a call in from one of our patrol cars. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but—"_ Frank gripped the phone in a shaking hand,  _"—but they found your car, the car you said Joe was driving. It was totaled, Frank."_

Frank felt sick. "And Joe?"

There was a pause. Then— _"I'm sorry, Frank, he wasn't anywhere in sight. It looks like whoever kidnapped Darren and Jessi Marie picked him up too…"_

Frank swore so loudly he thought he might have blown one of the cop's eardrums. "If these wrecks and kidnappings are connected, which they most definitely  _are_ , then this means that everyone is in much more danger than I originally thought! I have a bad feeling that this has to do with the people who kept my brother captive for the past fifteen years."

 _"A revenge plot maybe?"_ Con guessed.

"Maybe," Frank replied. "But why on earth would he kidnap my kids if he's just looking to get revenge on Joe? I mean, I would die before I let someone hurt my niece, but if I were twisted like these guys, I wouldn't go after my target's niece and nephews but after his kid, you know? I just hope you're wrong about the revenge thing, though…because one way to really hurt someone…"

 _"…is hurting someone they love in the process."_ Con finished gravely. There was a silence so thick it was suffocating.  _"Look,"_ the lawman said,  _"what are planning to do now?"_

"I'm almost to the site of Darren's wreck," Frank informed his friend. "I'm going to go there first and go with my original plan of tracking down the kids—I now have a very good feeling that where I find my kids, I'll also find my brother."

 _"And if you're wrong?"_ Con wanted to know.

Frank swallowed, sickened at the thought of being mistaken and deserting his brother. The idea of abandoning him, even unwittingly, was more than Frank could handle. Joe would be with Darren and Jessi. He  _had_ to be. "Then I will never, ever forgive myself," the man answered honestly. "But he's with them. He has to b—" He was cut off as a beep announced a call waiting. "Hey, Con, I have to go, I've got another call." He checked the number. "It's Vanessa, maybe she's calling about Joey. I'll see you in just a few minutes. Bye."

He flipped over to the other call, praying for just a shred of good news. But he had already tempted Fate, and Fate was apparently determined to prove its point.

"Vanessa?"

Her voice was panicky and at first Frank was terrified that Joey had died. But why would his brother's wife call him with the news of his son's death? No, this had to be something else.

_"I know you're busy, Frank, but I know you would never forgive me if I kept this from you…Jacob and Joline went out for some air a few minutes ago and never came back. Your dad borrowed my car and is already working on tracking them down, but…I'm so scared…"_

Frank barely kept his cool. "Both Jacob and Joline are missing? Has anyone contacted Tony yet?"

Vanessa replied promptly,  _"Yes. Your dad called him and the police right before he left. He's upset, but he's confident in you and your dad's ability to track him down."_

"Thanks for letting me know, Vanessa," Frank said hoarsely. He decided not to tell her about Joe's disappearance right now because he feared any further stress would cause her to break down completely. Instead he asked, "Any word on Joey?"

_"Yes, I almost forgot to tell you! He woke up for a brief moment, but then went back under. The doctor says it's a good sign and if he continues to progress he may be moved to a private room sometime tomorrow."_

"Thank God," Frank breathed. "Thanks so much for being there for us, Van. I swear, we will find everyone and we'll all be back home to welcome my son home from the hospital. And Van—tell Callie I love her, okay?"

After saying good-bye, Frank pulled off onto the side of the road for a moment, not sure if he needed to drive right now, even with the crash site being less than a minute away, according to the directions Con had given him.  _Speak of the devil…_ his cell phone buzzed and he knew it was Con, about to tell him about Joline and Jacob's disappearance. He didn't answer the phone because he couldn't seem to make his body function.

"Why?" he moaned into his hands, tears spilling from his eyes and soaking his shirt. "Haven't we been through enough?"

He did the math. In less than four hours, five people had disappeared and one had been critically injured. He needed to get his family to a safe house immediately but they couldn't go until Joey could be moved. He grabbed his phone, desperately needing to get guards for the hospital to protect his son, wife, mother, and sister-in-law.

He knew that they were dealing with some really sick people here—he suddenly realized what Joe had meant when he had told him that the Assassins Superior made the regular Assassins look like girl scouts. If that was who was behind all of this, then these guys were good. And by good, it meant that they were bad. Very, very bad.

With a heavy heart, Frank Hardy drove on, terrified that life as he had come to know it was on the brink of ending—forever.


	8. Set Apart This Dream

_"Close your eyes, pretty girl, because it's easier when you brace yourself. Set your thoughts on a world far off where we only cry for joy. Oh, set apart this dream, set apart this dream for me."_

_**"Set Apart This Dream" by Flyleaf (A &M/Octone Records) from Memento Mori** _

* * *

 

Joline and Jacob  _had_ originally gone out for a bit of air. The couple had spent the past few hours alternating between sitting side by side in hard plastic chairs, worrying about Joey. Joline thought about just how lucky she was that she had a boyfriend as great as Jacob—he had missed school—with his dad's blessing—just to sit here with her, supporting her. She did, however, feel very annoyed at her inability to do nothing while Darren and Jessi Marie were missing. She knew she couldn't do much for Joey right now except for sit in the waiting room and personally, that was getting kind of old. She was fidgety and nervous and needed to let some of her pent-up energy out. So she had told her mom that she and Jacob were going out for a breather. They'd be back in fifteen minutes, at least. And she really meant it.

Until they overheard the conversation between two men coming from behind a large tree on the hospital grounds.

Joline recognized one of the voices immediately and shushed Jacob even though the boy wasn't saying anything. It was the Gray Man!

"…I know, Philip, but this is strictly on a need-to-know basis, and the Hardys don't  _need_ to know."

The other, unfamiliar voice countered, "But Arthur, that family in there deserves to know the truth of what's going on! This is their family that's on the line!"

"I know that," Arthur E. Gray said haughtily. "But there's no reason for them to get all hot-and-bothered about something that we have under control."

"But we…don't…have it under control, Arthur, that's just it," snapped the other man, Philip, the Gray Man had called him. "You said it yourself—if we can't uncover the Assassins Superior's headquarters then a lot of people are going to die.  _Starting_ with a four-year-old girl and a teenage boy. They have a right to know, man! I know we're the government and all that, but surely we can have some scruples…this is someone's loved ones, their kids, their brother…"

"No," the Gray Man said tersely. "Need-to-know, Philip. No one finds out anything until we find out what game the Assassins Superior are playing, what the stakes are, and how Joe Hardy fits into it all—because we know it's all centered around him."

"Arthur…"

"From now on it's Mr. Gray to you," the Gray Man said snootily. The teens heard retreating footsteps. As they walked away, Joline caught wind of something  _Mr. Gray_ said to the man named Philip. "As soon as we're done meeting with Fenton Hardy here we'll head out to McLaggen's Jewelry—that's where it's believed Joe Hardy was before he crashed and disappeared."

Joline's mouth was a perfect "O" for a few moments after hearing what the Gray Man had revealed. "Did you hear that?" she hissed. Her boyfriend nodded.

"There's something  _big_ going down, Jo," Jacob said, finding his voice. "We need to let your parents know."

Joline shook her head. "No time. We have to get to McLaggen's  _before_ that jerk-wad does."

Jacob stared. "You're seriously suggesting we just leave without telling anyone? What would be the point of that?"

Feeling just a bit frustrated, Joline replied, "That heartless government agent and his flunky are going to check out McLaggen's as soon as they're done talking to Grandpa. We need to beat them there and get the info they're after so we can get a head start."

"But…"

"Jacob, I know that man. He's a heartless person who cares more about his stupid 'operations' than the lives of innocent people. He was going to kill my dad because he was brainwashed into thinking he was the bad guy! He doesn't care about Dad or Darren or Jessi. All he cares about is the 'greater good'. My dad and cousins are in danger and if we don't follow up on the one lead we have now, then we'll never get anywhere and we might lose them all! And I couldn't handle it, I couldn't!"

"Shhh, shh," Jacob soothed, taking the pretty girl into his arms and stroking her silky hair. "I'll do whatever it takes to get them back."

Joline looked at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Let's get it on," the boy grinned, then peeped around the tree. "Do you know which car they were driving?"

Joline also peeked around and grinned. "Could it be the small gray car that has a license plate of 'GRAY01'?"

"Wow, you really are observant! You should be a detective or something!" Jacob cracked. He gave his girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek, whispered, "Stay down!", and rushed to the car. He bent over the wheels and came back, looking rather pleased with himself.

"I slashed all four tires," he informed Joline. "Now we've definitely got a head start on them. Now, how are we going to get up to McLaggen's? I don't suppose walking is an option."

Joline shook her head. "Come on, let's walk up to the main road and catch a cab. It's not the best way to get somewhere without leaving a trail, but it's the best choice we have."

* * *

Arthur E. Gray and his assistant on this case, Philip B. White (or the White Man), were extremely…put out. When they had finished their quick meeting with Fenton Hardy (who was unreadable when it came to whether he knew something else was going on or not), they had come out to the parking lot to find that all four of their tires were slashed. Stupid vandals. Upon trying to hail a cab, they had discovered that all of the vehicles whizzed right by them without a second glance. In fact, they seemed to speed up when the drivers saw them. It was almost as if they had orders  _not_ to pick up those gray men in the gray suits. But that was preposterous.

In the end, they had to walk to the nearest bus stop and board a crowded, smelly bus loaded with a bunch of loud people. They were nearly thirty minutes off schedule, and they were not happy about it. Not happy at all.

* * *

Darren sighed in relief as the ropes loosened enough for him to wriggle his hands free. Jessi had been hard at work for nearly half an hour, but she hadn't complained in the least. She had picked and pulled the rope until it had given Darren enough slack to slip his hands free. Instantly, he stretched his arms out in front of him and immediately regretted it. A searing pain shot through his shoulders and his wrists burned from the rope. Disregarding the pain, the teenager spun to face his sister and gathered the little girl into his arms. "I'm so proud of you, Jessi," he whispered into her tangled, dirty blonde hair. He felt her shaking and knew that she was crying.

"Shhh, shhh, Baby," he soothed. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get out of this, and we'll be okay."

"We'll get Uncle Joe out, too?" Jessi wanted to know.

Darren's heart tightened. He would do anything possible to get their uncle to safety as well, but not if it meant endangering his four-year-old sister. He positively hated himself for even considering leaving Joe behind, but when he looked at Jessi Marie, he knew he could do nothing else if the situation came to it. Joe was strong, probably one of the strongest people on earth after his fifteen-year-stint as an Assassin-in-Training. He could surely survive long enough for Darren and Jessi to get out and get help for him, if it came to that. Darren knew that Joe of all people wouldn't expect his nephew to put him in front of precious Jessi Marie.

"Yes, Jessi," Darren lied, not at all sure that he could come through for his uncle if they even managed to get out of the room.

"How're we gonna get out?" Jessi Marie whispered conspiratorially.

Darren didn't answer. He was too busy trying to figure out what in the world he could do about their predicament. Once again he found himself almost wishing that Joline were here to offer him a bit of moral support, or even better, some advice.

He thought back to the last time he had escaped from a guarded and locked room. He and Joline had been locked up by Network agents in order to keep the two of them from doing something to endanger themselves—or "worse", endanger the Network's operation. They tricked the guards into thinking they had escaped by using bugs, then had ran out of the door, unseen, as the guards searched the room they had been hiding in. It was what had happened next that really caught Darren's memory, however.

After they had gotten out of the room, they still had to escape the building, and Joline had concocted a plan that was dubiously cliché—dressing up in full body suits, complete with gas masks, to blend in and get out of there undetected. Darren had had his doubts; if he remembered correctly, his actual words had been, "This is  _so_ cliché."

They had escaped, however, and Darren had been forced to admit that Joline's idea—if not entirely original—had been a good one. It went to prove that sometimes you could get a new dog to fall for old tricks. He remembered what Joline had said after he had given her props for helping them escape with her unoriginal but effective plan.  _"Hey, sometimes you gotta stick to the status quo."_

Darren's eyes lit up as his brain began whirring. Sometimes, he realized, the best plan is one that has been done over and over again. After all, if it's been used repeatedly, then it has to have been effective at least some of the time, right? Unless the people who tried a cliché plan did so out of pure desperation.

Another thing to think about: back when he and Joline had been prisoners of the Network, their lives hadn't been in danger from the government agents. Even though the Network wasn't that friendly, they still wouldn't kill a couple of kids—well, unless it was for the "greater good." And even if they did that, it wouldn't be killing them directly. It would be letting someone—their captors—kill the kids so that the rest of the people in danger could walk away unharmed. Yet another tally on the side of escaping as soon as possible.

Now, however, they were in the hands of people at the totally opposite side of the spectrum. These people wouldn't think twice of killing them if they tried to escape. Why they had wanted them alive in the first place, Darren wasn't sure, but he figured it probably had something to do with leverage. If they had grabbed Joe, too, they were probably using Jessi and himself to make Joe do it.

No matter if Joe did what they demanded or not, Darren was almost positive that these Assassin Superiors would kill he and his sister anyway. And that was why Darren finally decided that they had to go with the cliché escape approach. It was risky, but it was better than waiting around to be killed. Of course, his father and grandfather would be on the case, but they couldn't risk sitting around, waiting for rescue, just in case they didn't get to the two prisoners soon enough.

Jessi smiled at her brother. "You're a smart big brudder. You'll figure it out and we'll be out soon, with Uncle Joe, too!"

The confidence she had in him both pleased and terrified Darren at the same time. He was happy that she believed so much in him, but afraid that he was going to let her down…especially since his plan involved running away from their prison… _without_ Uncle Joe.


	9. He's My Son

_"Can You hear me? Am I getting through tonight? Can You see him? Can You make him feel alright? If You can hear me, let me take his place somehow. See, he's not just anyone…he's my son."  
 **"He's My Son" by Mark Schultz (Word Records) from Mark [Schultz]**_

 

* * *

 

Tatiana Rodgers was confused. She knew what she had to do—what she had been planning on doing ever since that monster Eric had murdered her family—get revenge on him. She had been watching him for the past several months, surveying his activities and his life. She was ready to put her plan into action; she sent him the note, knowing that he would be fueled into a crazy rage when he realized who she was. He would go to any means necessary to track her down and kill her. Before he could, however, she would kill  _him_  first. Her family would finally be avenged.

Now, her plan had a big hole in it. Namely—Eric the Assassin was gone. Kidnapped. After getting her note in the jewelry store, she had watched from her car parked just off of the road leading to the parking lot, ready to follow him when he left. He had cried—the man, the killer, had actually  _cried_. And then he had pulled out of the lot jerkily, almost crashed, and had then been hit by a deep purple car that had driven him off the road.

The small but powerful car had sped away, then returned a few minutes later. Two strong-looking men had hoisted him, unconscious, bloody, and splattered with what looked suspiciously like his own sick, into the purple car and sped away.

The funny thing was, Tatiana vaguely recognized that car. She didn't know why. And even stranger, for the first time since she had been stalking him, she had felt that she recognized Eric—or Joe, as he had been called by these people he had been staying with. Not recognized him as the murderer who had killed her family, but recognized him from somewhere else. She just didn't know from where.

She thought of her parents, and something even weirder happened. She didn't feel sad. She didn't feel angry. In fact, she could barely form their faces in her whirring mind. Instead of sadness or anger, she felt a deep longing—and not for her parents. But for the man that had been carted away by two muscle-men driving a compact purple sports car.

She had never experienced a feeling so strong and foreign, especially for someone so hated, and she didn't like it. Still, she resolved she was going to try and find out more about the man she had always known as "Eric" before she extracted her revenge.

She tried to remember her parents, her family. She couldn't. And she found that she really didn't care. That was odd.

She decided she was going to go back inside the jewelry store, use the restroom, and freshen up. She would then go back to her apartment and try to figure out what to do. Before she tried to learn more about Eric—Joe—whoever he was—she had to find him first. Obviously she wasn't the only person after this man. That made her want him more than ever and she hated herself for it.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Getting out of her car, she didn't bother to lock it as she was only going inside the store for a minute. She walked through the front door, politely nodding as an automatic response to the two teenagers that were just leaving. She didn't notice the spark that lit up in the stunning blue eyes of the girl, so absorbed in her jumbled thoughts she was.

* * *

Upon arriving at the jewelry store, Joline and Jacob had first decided to send a message to Frank before they did anything else, letting him know they were okay but they were following up on a lead and that they hadn't had time to let anyone know where they were going and they would keep him updated. They were fine, and sorry. Joline hadn't wanted to at first, but when Jacob mentioned that they had been gone for almost forty-five minutes already and were almost positively being missed, she aquiested.

Joline and Jacob hadn't discovered anything new from talking to the clerk at the jewelry store. The man (even though reluctant to tell anything to two teenagers when he had already told the local police everything he knew) had given them a detailed description of the beautiful woman who had delivered the note for Joline's father.

As the teens were leaving, they held open the door for a striking, raven-haired woman walking in. Joline's eyes lit up. It was her!

After the woman had gone inside, Joline grinned at her boyfriend, ear-to-ear. "That's the woman! We can't let her get away!"

"Well, let's talk to her when she comes out, then," Jacob said amiably but Joline shook her head.

"Whatever was in that note wasn't good. She's probably not going to talk to us. We need to investigate her, follow her."

"Follow her, how?" Jacob demanded. "We're out of money and the cab's gone."

Joline smiled and ran to the car, opening the unlocked door. She hit the trunk opening button and kept an eye on the store for the woman as the trunk popped open. She then ran around the car and climbed into the trunk. "C'mon, Jacob!" she hissed. Her boyfriend looked around nervously.

"Jo, this isn't a good idea!"

"Nonsense, my dad did stuff like this all the time!"

"Yeah, and he normally got his butt into serious trouble, too."

"Just get in the trunk or I'm going alone," Joline delivered her ultimatum.

Jacob shook his head. "No way, babe. Scoot over." Jacob joined her in the spacious trunk of the black car and closed the trunk. "Let's hope she's not going far," he murmured, listening for any signs of the woman returning.

Joline scoffed. "You worry too much." She snuggled close to him and felt his arms automatically surround her slender form. "I kinda like it, actually. Just you and me, locked in a trunk together…"

"…if our parents could see us now, we'd be deader than dead!" Jacob asserted, kissing his girlfriend tenderly on the forehead.

Joline started to respond when the car dipped a little to the side, signaling that someone had gotten back into the car. The motor started, and they were on the move.

Joline didn't know what she had gotten herself and Jacob into, but she had a feeling that it was something that might be able to crack this case wide open. It was a gut feeling, true, but apparently her dad had always gone on his gut instincts, and maybe she had inherited them from him. She just hoped that hers were accurate like his had been.

If not, Joe, Darren, and Jessi might not be the only ones that need rescuing…

* * *

Frank was back at the hospital. Joey had woken up and he had wanted to see his son, talk to him and know he was okay, before continuing an investigation that was getting him absolutely nowhere. He was waiting for the doctors to okay him visiting for a few short minutes. He was in the waiting room outside of the ICU, stiff already from the uncomfortable chair. His family, or the ones that weren't missing (he thought morbidly), were crowded around him, silent and stuck between worry, fear, and hope now that Joey had opened his green peepers for a nurse.

His phone beeped. He pulled out the device and saw he had a text message. He checked the number and his heart leapt—it was from Joline's phone!

Quickly flipping the cell open, he clicked the "view message" button. It took him a few minutes to comprehend what he was reading because of the language used—it may have been English, but it was so distorted by the text talk that it literally looked like Greek until he had read it a few times:

_Hey uncle f its jo sry jake & i ran off but we hrd sumthin & had 2 chk it out didnt have time 2 tlk 2 any1 1st were ok but on teh case & well keep u posted were bein careful so tell mom & tony not 2 wry bout us cuz were safe i no u dont want us 2 get involved but we can do it i found my dad remember o & plz dont b mad cuz im sure this is sumthin well lol bout in a few yrs ill txt u again soon & let u no teh scoop sry again didnt have a choice tho lv u_

The truth settled in like a lead weight in Frank's heart.  _They did not!_ But they had. They had picked up some sort of lead and were irresponsible enough to run off and tell no one what they were doing! If they hadn't sent a text, everyone would still think they had been kidnapped or worse! His heart skipped a beat. And if they were off chasing some clue, they were still in danger. Unsure of what to do, Frank found himself doing something he never did: he texted back.

_Joline: Where are you? What lead? Are you really O.K.? We've been worried sick!_

Several anxious minutes passed and then he received another text.

_Not sure where we're cuz we're kinda following sum1 were fine tho & sry we worried u & bout the lead just ask the network, we heard mr. gray talking 2 sum1 bout sumthin & had 2 beat them there cuz they know sumthin bout darren, jessi, & daddy_

Frank sent a quick reply:

_What? Are you sure? And who are you following? And how on earth do you not know where you're at? You two need to get out of there as soon as possible and get your butts back to the hospital! Joey's awake and we're about to go see him! You two need to leave this up to the professionals._

A nurse came and said that Joey was ready to see them now. His family got up, and Callie glanced at him, just now noticing that her husband was absorbed with his phone. "Honey, who're you texting? I didn't even know you knew  _how_ to text!"

Frank didn't want to tell her anything just yet. He was also aching to see his little boy. But he had to find out just what was going on with his niece and her boyfriend. "No one—I mean, I'll be with you guys in just a second."

Callie's eyes reflected hurt. "Frank, that's our  _son_  in there."

"I know. And I want to see him more than you know. I  _need_ to see him…but I have to get this sorted out—it's involving Joline and Jacob," he finally explained.

Callie nodded. "Hurry, though, baby. I know he'll be wanting to see you." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and went to go see her son.

The phone beeped again and Frank read the text he'd been waiting for.

_Yep were sure don't know the name of the prsn were after but she's in this deep were sure we don't know where were b/c we sorta climbed n her trunk we couldn't let her get away were so glad joeys awake & wish we could c him rite now but we can't go back now, cuz the professionals r the 1s keeping secrets & were sry we worried u we should've dun things diff but it was a spur of the moment decision plz don't b mad well send u updates lv u & sry again_

Angry at himself, at Joline and Jacob, at God for allowing this to happen, Frank stuffed his phone in his pocket so he could go see his son. Callie, Laura, Fenton, and Vanessa met him on their way out, however, and there were tears on their faces.

"Guys, what's going on? Why aren't you with Joey?" he demanded, panicked.

"H-he had a s-seizure—a b-bad one," Callie sobbed into her husband's shoulder.

Fenton gripped his swaying son's shoulder before he could fall. "He's had a relapse, Frank, and if they can't get these seizures under control soon…" Fenton's voice broke.

Frank threw up.  _Why didn't I go see him when I had the chance? Joline and Jacob are doing fine on their own…they're right…Joline sure knows what she's doing…why can't I ever make the right decisions anymore? God, please make this all go away…give me my kids and my brother back…_

As he was led back to the ICU waiting room where he knew he had to stay (unwillingly leaving the case of his missing brother and children to the Bayport PD, FBI, the lying Network, and his niece), he found himself bargaining with God.

_I'll do anything…please…they're my kids…he's my baby brother and I just got him back…he's my son…_


	10. Meaning of Life

_"It only takes one to make a difference. It takes a little to change. Let's start today for a new tomorrow. Don't look back; I won't look back now."_

_**"Meaning of Life" by Hawk Nelson (Tooth & Nail Records) from Live Life Loud** _

 

* * *

 

He had a picture of his target and but he didn't need it. He remembered her perfectly from so many years ago. Eric had a perfect memory. He was Eric again. That was the only way he was going to be able to get through this. Joe Hardy wasn't a killer. Eric was.

Eric had tracked her to a hotel near the end of town. She was staying in Bayport Inn, under the alias of Tatiana Taylor. As if a false last name could fool him. He knew where she was and who she was. And he was going to kill her. He had to. He knew the stakes.

He had already decided that he would do it quickly. And painlessly. He would shoot her in the head. The brain had no nerves. Only the skin would hurt as the bullet passed through, but since the brain had no nerves, she would hopefully feel nothing when she died.

He didn't want her to beg, or cry, or even talk to him at all. He just wanted to get it over with so that his niece and nephew would be set free. At the same time, he wondered if he could really do this under any circumstances. Never had he been put in such a position. Could he really murder an innocent girl in cold blood? Joe Hardy most definitely couldn't.

Eric could. Eric had. Eric would again.

He had no choice, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep from turning the barrel to his own head after he had done the deed—to take someone's life was something Joe detested with all of his being. He didn't think he could deal with doing it again, this time conscious of what he was doing. Even if he let his Eric instincts take control, Joe was right there. Joe knew what he was doing. And it was killing him.

He had watched her get out of her car and walk briskly into the hotel. About fifteen minutes later, he had entered and inquired about her using the pretense of being an old friend. He had found out that she was staying on the third floor, in room 306. Now he was standing outside the door, the handgun in his jacket pocket, the dagger strapped to his left calf for easy access. He'd left the sniper rifle in the trunk of the car he'd found waiting for him a few blocks away from where he'd been dropped off—compliments of the Assassins Superior. He wouldn't need it.

He was working up his nerve. He was going to burst in and shoot before she could utter a word. It would be over with before he could make any kind of connection with her, before either one of them knew what was happening. That was the only way he could do this. And he  _had_ to do this.

If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he might have heard the murmuring voices from behind the door and known that there was more than one person in the hotel room. But he wasn't paying attention. Not really. He took a deep breath, pulling the small but deadly handgun from his jacket. He jumped back and kicked the door open and barreled into the room.

He froze.

Three people were in the room: Tatiana Rodgers, Jacob Prito, and his daughter, Joline.

"Hello, Joe," said Tatiana.

Eric didn't know what to do. And frankly, Joe was a little shell-shocked as well. He kept the gun trained on Tatiana but glanced at his daughter.

"Joline. What are you doing here?"

A ghost of a smile found Tatiana's mouth. "I found these two stowaways in my trunk. Seems they decided to hop in for a ride because they thought I had something to do with your disappearance, Joe."

"I'm not Joe," Joe said. "Not to you. I'm Eric, and I have a job to do."

"Dad—" Joline protested.

"Not now," Joe said. He stared at Tatiana. "What were you about to do to them? Get rid of them for revenge because I killed your family?" He bit his tongue as soon as he said it. Not only did he sound bitter and heartless, like the murder of the woman's family didn't bother him, but he realized he had just admitted to his fifteen-year-old daughter that he had murdered four people. He couldn't look Joline or Jacob in the eye. He had to force himself to look at Tatiana, and what he saw there was a surprise.

She didn't look fazed in the least. Actually, she was smiling. "Joe, I would never hurt these kids. I would never hurt any kid. When I went to grab my purse from the trunk, I found these two huddled in the trunk. Needless to say, I was a little startled but I recovered quickly enough to ask who they were and what they were doing there. Of course, I already knew who they were, since I have been watching you and your family for months now…

"I invited them inside. Turns out, I was just as shocked by your abduction as your daughter and her beau were. I was watching after I gave you that note, to see your reaction. When you started crying and when you wrecked…I realized something wasn't quite right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I wanted to talk to you. I  _needed_ to talk to you."

"Mr. Hardy, we did some research," Jacob interjected, glancing warily at the gun Joe still held, even though it was pointed slightly downward now, almost as if afraid his girlfriend's father would turn it on him for being alone in a dark trunk with Joline. "Ms. Rodgers was having trouble remembering her family for some reason. And she wasn't feeling any more emotions or urges for revenge against you for killing them. She wanted to know why."

Joline picked up the story. "Dad, the Rodgers family never existed. Tatiana Rodgers doesn't exist. No British dignitaries were killed when you supposedly mowed down Tatiana's family."

Joe felt weak with relief and disbelief. "You mean…?"

"Joe, we're both victims," Tatiana said quietly. "We were both taken by the Assassins Superior and used for their own selfish agenda. I'm not exactly sure what my importance was, but the point is, you didn't kill anybody. We were both implanted with false memories somehow. I was given a need for revenge. You were implanted with memories as well, but they were somehow buried and only emerged when something triggered them—that note I sent. We were both manipulated by the Assassins Superior."

"Thank God." That was all Joe could say. He wasn't a killer! Then he remembered Darren and Jessi Marie. If they were going to survive, he would have to become one, though.

As if she could read his mind, Joline said, "Dad, Darren and Jessi will be okay. I know it. Darren will do anything to keep Jessi Marie safe and they'll escape if they haven't already. I have the utmost faith in my cousins. You aren't a killer, Daddy. You never have been. Now that we're all together, we can surely find them. You know you can't go through with it."

Joe nodded wearily. "I know. I think I've always known." He put the gun back in his jacket and looked at Tatiana. "Do you have any idea who you really are?"

The beautiful woman shook her head. "No. I have no memory of a previous life. I only vaguely remember the life the Assassins Superior created for me. I don't have any idea what made me think twice about that life. Something to do with you, I guess. I just don't know what triggered it."

"There's a lot we don't know about all of this," Joe said wryly. "Like what and how the Assassins Superior did all this—their psychological techniques are far more advanced than anything I've ever come up against. I should know…I remember the brainwashing process." He shuddered. "But that's not what's important now. We have to start the search for Jessi and Darren. We have to save them. We have to bring the Assassins Superior down. But first, I gotta call Frank."

* * *

The guard's name was Gray Daniels. He wasn't an Assassin Superior. He was a local thug hired by the elite group of terrorists to play babysitter. Along with his "supervisors", the beautiful Anya (now head of the Assassins Superior since her boss had been captured) and another Assassin Superior, a giant of a man named Thomas, he had kidnapped Joe, Jessi, and Darren.

And now while Anya and Thomas, apparently the only remaining Assassin Superiors in freedom, were out doing whatever Assassin Superiors with evil plots do, he was guarding the two brats that were being held in the basement.

Their base right now was an old, dilapidated farmhouse in Greshem, which was a town bordering Bayport. They had chosen this place because it was out of town but close enough to be right in the middle of the action.

Gray had no scruples. At least, not with the amount of money the Assassins Superior were going to pay him for doing this. If it meant watching over and possibly killing two kids, so be it. It was worth one and a half million dollars.

What he didn't know was that the Assassins would shoot him when he had fulfilled his usefulness and the money that had never existed would never be paid.

He was pacing in front of the basement door, fingering the gun in the holster on his hip, when he heard the scream. There was a thud. Someone was crying. That little girl! "HEEEELLP! Is somebody up there? My big brudder's hurt!"

Grumbling because no harm was to come to the kids unless Anya or Thomas ordered it, Gray made his way down the stairs to see what the commotion was about.

The little girl was on her knees, sobbing on the chest of the older teenager, who was lying unnaturally still on the floor. He looked dead.

"What happened?" Gray asked roughly, wondering if one of them died when the order hadn't been given was going to adversely affect his pay.

"I dunno," the girl cried. "He grabbed his chest and fell over. I can't wake him up!"

"Move," Gray ordered sternly, shoving the little girl aside. He had left the basement door open. He hadn't expected her to have the presence of mind to run. While he was bending over the older boy, trying to check for a pulse or something, Jessi Marie edged up the stairs and out the door unnoticed. That part of the plan was complete. Jessi Marie was out of firing range and out of danger. For good measure, she found her way out of the farmhouse and crawled under the rundown porch and hid, having no doubt that her big brother would come for her as soon as he escaped.

Back in the basement, Gray was almost nose-to-nose with Darren when the boy brought back his fist and slammed it into the thug's face. While Gray was down, he wasn't out, but Darren had created the diversion he needed. Shoving past the man with the gun, Darren raced up the stairs, a bullet splintering the wood of the door frame as he passed through.

Quickly finding his bearings, Darren searched for the front door, knowing Jessi Marie would probably be outside waiting for him—that was the plan. The hallway he was in now was shabby and rundown, but he glanced into a partially opened doorway and saw that it looked fancy and newly remodeled—some kind of portable lab. There was a hospital bed with straps on it. He wondered if that was where his uncle had been held, and where in the house Joe was now.

He heard the killer coming, and he knew he had no more time to contemplate. He had to get out of there and send help for Joe later. He raced down the hall and zoomed through the front door. "Jessi?" he whispered, out blinking in the sunlight.

She wriggled out from under the porch, grinning from ear to ear. "We did it!" she smiled, and Darren embraced her. "But where's Uncle Joe?"

"He's on his way. He'll meet up with us later," Darren lied guiltily. He heard heavy footsteps inside the house and knew that the guard was almost on them. He scooped up his sister and glanced around, spotting the solid, compact sports car that had run them off the road in the first place. The keys were in the ignition.

Without a second thought, he raced for the car, a gunshot sounding and splattering the ground next to them. The man hadn't had to miss. He must have had orders not to kill them unless other orders were given, Darren figured. But the man was obviously hoping that Darren didn't know that. Unfortunately for their "babysitter", Darren had figured it out.

The teenager dove into the car with his little sister, immediately ordering her to lie on the floorboard in the backseat to protect herself from stray bullets as he started the car and screamed out onto the road. As it turned out, it was unnecessary. A bullet hit the window next to his head and bounced off. Bullet-proof. Of course.

Darren hadn't seen any other forms of transportation and knew they were safe from pursuit, for now at least. Jubilant at their escape, but still guilty about leaving their uncle with those madmen, he said, "Jessi, you can get up now. Make sure you buckle your seatbelt."

"Where are we going?" Jessi wanted to know as she complied.

"We're in Greshem," Darren said. "It's right next to Bayport. I want to go find Mom and Dad but first we need to get to the nearest police station. So we'll go to the Greshem Police Department and contact the people at Bayport. Hopefully they'll let us wait on giving our statements until we've been reunited with our family…"

He trailed off and glanced in the rearview mirror. Jessi Marie was slumped over in the seatbelt, exhausted. Darren smiled as he steered the car toward the police department, letting his little princess rest in the backseat.


	11. Get Back Up

_"We lose our way, we get back up again. It's never too late to get back up again. One day, you gonna shine again. We may be knocked down but we're not out forever!"  
 **"Get Back Up" by Toby Mac (Gotee Records) from Tonight**_

 

* * *

 

Arthur E. Gray was very annoyed. He and Agent White had been set back on their investigation all day long. They had arrived at the jewelry store to find that whoever had held them up at the hospital had already beaten them there.

They  _had_ learned that it was a couple of teenagers that had beaten them to the store. If he had to guess, the Gray Man would have bet on his life that one of them was that annoying Joline Hardy. She always seemed to stick her nose into everything the Network was doing lately; she was so impetuous! Like father, like daughter, he supposed.

They had also found a long, dark hair near the counter of the store. It was a long shot, but the owner had said the woman was dark haired—perhaps they could analyze the DNA and get a match. If she was anyone in the spy/assassin world, her DNA would be in the Network's database. He had sent Agent White back to headquarters with the hair and orders to inform him as soon as he had anything.

Agent White had called him back five minutes ago with the results and suddenly everything was clear—or most everything. There were a few murky spots, but they would clean those up soon enough.

His phone chirped. He glanced down, saw the number, and groaned. It was Frank Hardy. Reluctantly he answered. "Agent Gray."

" _Mr. Gray—I am sick and tired of your games!_ " Frank Hardy stormed from the other line and the Gray Man grimaced. The other man was blazing mad. " _I got a text from my niece a half hour ago, telling me that she and her boyfriend had run off chasing some lead they overheard you talking about that you weren't going to tell us!_ "

"Half hour ago? A little slow on the program, are we, just calling now, I mean?"

" _Don't test me, Gray. My son is in the hospital…he was inches away from death. I couldn't call and chew you out until I knew he was going to be okay. Lucky for you, they stabilized him and expect a full recovery. No more seizures. Now tell me what the heck is going on!_ "

Agent Gray sighed. "Frank, I'm not sure of all the details, but from what evidence I've gathered, this is all an elaborate scheme to get back at Joe for bringing down the Assassins Superior."

" _I could have told you that!_ " Frank snapped, short on patience. " _He and my children are missing! You wouldn't have to be a half-wit Network agent to figure that one out!_ "

"Mr. Hardy…this revenge plot, from what I have discovered, has been plotted since the moment Joe Hardy was taken by the Assassins Superior. Just in case something happened. It's…nasty." The Gray Man almost sounded disturbed.

" _Well, I want to know—"_ Frank cut off. _"Joline is calling me; they must be to safety._ "

"Good to know, after they impeded my investigation," Arthur Gray muttered.

" _Gray, I will call you back soon—and for your sake, you'd better answer and tell me what the heck is going on here—and you're going to tell it to me straight, or else_."

He was gone. The Gray Man snorted and glared at his phone. "Yes, Frank, hang up on me, that is  _so_ mature." Scowling, Arthur Gray dialed the number to order a taxi, hoping that whatever Joline had said to the drivers before to get them to avoid him had passed…he had a lead in Greshem he had to follow up on…and his car—flat tires and all—was still at the hospital.

* * *

Frank was sitting next to Joey's bed. His young son had finally been moved to a private room and was sleeping peacefully. The rest of his family had gone back to his parents' house for a few hours of rest. Frank had eagerly offered to stay with his son. Only Fenton was still on the case, working with the police as they tried to track down the missing kids—that included Joe, the biggest kid of them all. Frank had let his family and Tony know what was going on with Joline and Jacob. While they all agreed that their actions were highly irresponsible, everyone had to commend the youngsters for their courage and determination and were praying for them to get back safely so they could be properly punished for running off.

Frank had been talking to the Gray Man—quietly, so as not to wake his son—when the phone beeped and he saw that it was Joline's number. Elated, he had hung up on the government agent and said in a low tone, "Joline?"

" _Nope. Even better!_ " came a smiling, yet somehow strained voice from the other line. Frank felt his spirits lift even higher.

"Joe! Are you okay? Where the _heck_ have you been? Where are you now? And what are you doing with Jo's phone?"

Joe chuckled.  _"I ran into some trouble with the Assassins Superior. It's a long story. I've got someone here who is probably going to help clear things up a bit…Joline and Jacob found her actually…they're here too; that's why I'm using Jo's phone. I've got one heck of a daughter, you know that?"_

Frank couldn't help but grin, even as the emotions and stress of the past few hours washed over him. "Yeah, bro, you sure do. Have they told you about my kids?"

Joe's voice was sad, restrained emotions threatening to come to the surface.  _"Yeah…I already knew…I saw Jessi after I had been captured…"_

"You saw Jessi? What about Darren? Where were they being held? Was she okay?"

Joe sounded very weary all of a sudden.  _"Like I said, it's a long story. I'll tell you about it when we get to the hospital—our new friend is driving us there as I speak. But yeah, I saw Jessi. She was a little bruised—most likely from the car wreck—but man, was that girl as resilient as ever…she's a brave one, Frank. I didn't see Darren, but I know he was there. And he_ will _take care of his sister, I know that—and you do, too. But how's Joey doing? And have you heard anything else from our illustrious friend Mr. Gray?"_

The questions about his children and the pain at knowing that two of them were still missing rolling around in his head, Frank managed to answer, "Joey's doing so much better. I'm sitting in with him right now—private room. The doctors still aren't sure if he'll ever be able to walk again but at least he's alive. And he's a tough kid. Who knows—he could very well pull a miracle—just like you've been doing all your life. You know, like coming back from the dead and all." He thought back to Joe's "Welcome Back from the Dead" party. That all seemed like a lifetime away, even if it really hadn't been that long ago.

Joe laughed.  _"Well, he's a hardy Hardy. What do you expect? Look, man, we'll be at the hospital in a few and then maybe we can exchange stories and start doing some hardcore investigating of our own…"_

"Not you, Joe," Frank said into the mouthpiece determinedly. "I have to call Gray back—I sort of hung up on him when Joline's phone number popped up—and he had said something about this all being a nasty, elaborate plot to get revenge on you by the Assassins Superior. You can't be jeopardized again."

He could almost see his brother rolling his blue eyes.  _"Whatever, Frank. You know you can't stop me from helping. We've got to get to Darren and Jessi as soon as possible, because now that I've totally disregarded their orders…"_

Horrified, Frank couldn't believe that he hadn't realized this sooner  _I must be more tired than I thought_. He finished for his younger brother, "…they have no use for them."

* * *

Darren and Joline had just arrived at the Greshem Police Department. Darren had been relieved that the guard had been unable to follow them. He gently shook his little sister awake. "Jessi…Jessi, we're here."

The adorable little girl peeped open one brown eye. "Hey, big brudder," she said contentedly. "Are we at home?"

"Not yet," Darren admitted. "We're at the police station. But we'll call home whenever we go inside."

Jessi Marie grinned. "I can talk to Daddy and Mommy?"

"Of course!" Darren smiled.

Jessi Marie sat up straighter and glanced around as if she were scouting out something in particular.

"Jessi?" said Darren. "What are you looking for?"

"Where's Uncle Joe?" the little girl asked, her eyes big and scared. "You said he was coming soon! It's soon, Darren!" The child looked as if she were about to cry.

Darren bit his lip. He hadn't expected this…not this soon. Jessi was looking at him, and the look of terror at losing her uncle nearly broke Darren's heart. "Look, Jessi Marie…I had to get you out of there…and Uncle Joe wasn't where he had been…we had to leave without him."

The child's lower lip trembled. "Y-you lied to me?"

"No!" Darren insisted. "Well…kind of…but I had to get you to safety. Now that we're at the police station, we'll be able to get a hold of Dad and you know he won't rest until he finds Joe."

Jessi Marie considered this for a moment. "Well, come on," she said in the bossy tone she reserved for when she was irritated or wanted someone to do exactly what she wanted to do  _when_  she wanted to do it. (Darren knew this tone well; he had been coerced into many pink and frilly tea parties by it.) "Let's go tell the police, then, so we can find him."

She scrambled out of the car and trotted toward the front door. Darren chuckled and got out himself. "Wait up, Jessi!" he called. He was about to follow when he felt something cold and hard pressed against the back of his neck and a strong hand clamped onto his arm. Jessi had already disappeared into the police station. It wasn't the guard; the grip was different, stronger somehow. He heard a chuckle. This one was from a woman.

"We're here," Anya, the head of the Assassins Superior breathed behind him as her partner held him with a gun to the back of the neck, "to witness your execution. When arrived at headquarters and you were gone, we immediately shot that dopey guard for letting you escape and then took my car to track you down. You see, it doesn't matter that we are right in front of the police station. Your uncle double-crossed us and we are going to kill you. We'll come back for your little sister and the rest of your family later. You can die knowing that everyone you love and care about is going to suffer and perish, and that your beloved uncle killed them with his insubordination."

Darren gazed desperately at the entrance of the police department, almost as if willing someone to come out…just not Jessi. Suddenly he was terrified that his little sister would come back out looking for him and get killed too…

The doors remained closed, however. The cold metal of the gun dug harder into his neck. He felt sick…he didn't want to die.

"Good-bye, Darren Hardy," the male Assassin Superior whispered into his ear, the hot breath making his skin itch.

A gunshot rang out, deafeningly loud, and Darren cried out as he felt a stinging pain in his left shoulder…

He'd been shot.


	12. Best I Can

_"When I can barely hold on, you promise you won't let me go. And I want you to know: I don't live a perfect life but God knows I'm trying the best I can. And I've been wasting so much time pretending I'm not lying about who I am. Now I'm living the best I can."  
 **"Best I Can" by Decyfer Down (INO Records) from Crash**_

* * *

 

Darren had most definitely been shot, but not in the back of the head. Not fatally. And not by the Assassin Superior. In fact, the Assassin Superior was so surprised that the person he was about to shoot had already been shot that he lost his grip on Darren, who, fire raging in his shoulder, slumped to the ground at his feet.

Another shot cracked through the air. Darren glanced up and felt a strange mixture of relief and sickness as the bullet imbedded itself in the Assassin Superior's head. The man dropped—right on top of Darren. Anya was nowhere to be found.

Darren cried out and tried to struggle out from under the dead man as his bleeding shoulder protested. From the shadows behind the police station came several uniformed police officers and, his gun still smoking, the Gray Man.

Darren's vision was hazy from the pain, but he managed to glare at the government agent as the officers hauled the corpse off of Darren. "You shot me," he accused.

One of the police officers looked embarrassed as he knelt down and began applying pressure to the wound with a gauze pad he'd been holding. "Sorry, kid," he said sheepishly. "We called the ambulance before we acted," he said. "It should be here in minutes."

Putting together the fact that the officer had already had the first aid supplies on him and that they had already summoned an ambulance, Darren realized something that made him very unhappy. "You  _planned_ to shoot me," he accused, his blue eyes smoldering at the agent he so much despised.

The Gray Man shrugged. "I did what I had to do. When your sister—"

Darren immediately cut him off. "Jessi Marie! Where is she? Is she alright? Anya got away; she might go after her!"

"Your sister is fine," the Gray Man assured the distraught teen as he struggled to get up and was gently pushed down by the officer. He could hear the distant sounds of sirens and felt relieved as the pain was overwhelming. "She is inside with the rest of the officers. We couldn't get a hold of your father, but we called your grandfather and he is coming to collect Jessi Marie and take her to safety. You will go to the hospital to have that wound treated and you will have a police guard until the remaining Assassin Superior is caught. You will go to Greshem General for treatment and if you have to stay overnight you will be transferred to Bayport General and share a room with your brother."

The ambulance screeched into the parking lot and the paramedics got out and immediately began assessing Darren's injury while two others rolled a stretcher from the back. Darren locked eyes on the government agent as he was lifted. "Wait!" he said. "Joey, is-is he okay?"

The Gray Man nodded. "Yes."

Darren had to be satisfied with this meager answer for now, as he was being piled into the back of the ambulance. He had had some painkiller shot into him and his head was feeling fuzzy, but his mind was still whirling with questions, the most prominent being "Why the heck did he shoot me?"

* * *

"Joe, Joline, Jacob!" Frank leapt up from his seat as his brother and his daughter and his daughter's boyfriend, along with a beautiful woman entered the waiting room. He threw his arms around his brother, who was looking exhausted and sore but most definitely alive. Joe hugged him back.

"How's Joey?" Joe wanted to know. His voice was thick, like he had cried recently and his eyes were red and puffy. Frank had no idea what his brother had gone through, but he knew that whatever it was, it involved the Assassins Superior, which most definitely _was not_  good.

"He's better," Frank smiled. He felt an aching in his heart as he remembered that although one of his children was going to be okay, two of them were still in terrible danger. One of them his four-year-old innocent baby girl. He forced himself to stay calm. "The doctors are amazed at how much he's improved already. He'll probably get to go home within the next week and a half. Callie, Mom, and Vanessa are in with him right now. Now that he's out of the woods, they're going to watch him while you and I start looking for Darren and Jessi." His voice cracked and his face took on a faraway expression, but he cleared his throat, glanced at the woman with them. "Uh, who's your friend?"

"We don't know exactly," Joline piped up. "She's the one I was telling you about—the one that Jacob and I tracked down!"

"I honestly don't know who I am," the girl said in a soft, sad voice. "The only name I know is Tatiana Rogers, but I have very recently found out that everything I knew about Tatiana is a lie. I have no idea who I am."

"She's another victim of the Assassins Superior," Joe said bitterly.

Frank's phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID screen and exclaimed, "I'd better take this—it's Dad and he'll be wanting to make sure that you guys made it here safe after I let him know that you were okay. He may also have some news. Hello, Dad?"

_"Son, Arthur Gray tried to call you earlier, didn't he?"_

Frank sighed. "Yes, but I didn't answer. I know it may be childish but that man— _that man_ —he infuriates me so much sometimes. I just couldn't stand to hear his voice right then." Joe, listening in on Frank's side of the conversation, smirked.

 _"If you hated him then, you are really going to hate him now,"_  Fenton Hardy said mysteriously. He then said, _"Look, Frank, I have a little surprise for you. Can you and Joe drop everything you're doing and come to Greshem General Hospital?"_

"What's going on? Why—"

_"Just get over here. And don't worry, everything is going to be just fine."_

He hung up. Frank stared at the cell phone. "He hung up on me. Real mature, Dad."

Joe waved a hand in front of his brother's face, who immediately snapped out of his daze-like stupor. "Huh?"

"Dude—what did he say?"

"Dad wants you and I to drop everything to go to Greshem General Hospital. I have no idea why, but maybe he's found a lead or something." He looked at Joe after glancing at Joline and Jacob. Joe nodded. Frank spoke to the teenagers, "If you two want to come, you can. You have more than earned the right to see this thing through to the end if you want."

Joe nodded, his deep blue eyes smiling proudly on his daughter and her significant other. "We'll take the heat from Tony later," he half-joked about allowing Jacob to participate without his father's knowledge.

Joline looked like she was going to cry. "Thanks," she said thickly. "You don't know how much it means that you can trust me…but I haven't seen my little brother yet. I am going to go up with Mom, Grandma, and Aunt Callie so I can visit Joey."

Now Frank looked like he was on the verge of bawling. "You don't know how proud I am of you."

Joline smiled at her uncle and father through tearing eyes. "So I'll see you later? And you'll tell me what was so important?"

"You betcha," Joe promised. He looked at Tatiana. "So, what are you going to do?"

The woman hesitated. "We were planning on going to this government agency and trying to figure out if they might have any idea who I am…I know that you wanted to go with me, but I can go on to their temporary headquarters myself and we can meet up later."

"Are you sure?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows at Joe just slightly, hoping his brother would hear the underlying  _Are you sure we can trust her?_

Joe got the message and chuckled. "Yeah. Absolutely. My gut is 100% positive that we've got nothing to worry about with this one."

Tatiana looked confused and Joe laughed. On an impulse, he took a step forward and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. "Be careful," he said.

As they were walking out to Frank's car, the older brother asked, "What was that about?"

"I don't know," Joe admitted. "I just felt drawn to her for just a fraction of a second. I wanted to protect her."

Frank started up the engine and the fifteen-minute journey to Greshem General began. Joe sat in the passenger's seat and glanced at his brother. "Frank, I need to tell you something," he said quietly.

Frank chanced a brief glance at Joe before returning his eyes to the road. "Okay," he said simply.

"I—I almost killed Tatiana…if I hadn't, they were going to kill Jessi and Darren...but I didn't obey in the end…and now they may die and it'll be my fault…" He buried his face in his hands, distraught.

Frank had tears in his eyes as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. "Joe," he whispered, pulling his brother close. "I would have made the same decision…Darren is going to take care of Jessi, we have to believe that. And there is no way I would ever ask you to kill someone."

Joe quickly told his brother everything that had happened since his abduction. Frank was aghast at the terrible things the Assassins Superior had made Joe and Tatiana believe was the truth. As he pulled back onto the road, Frank mused, "The Gray Man, before I hung up on him, said that this was all some sort of elaborate plot to get back at you, orchestrated from the very beginning (as soon as the Assassins Superior took you) just in case you managed to escape. He said it was particularly nasty."

"Oh, it was," Joe said with feeling.

"But still—why Tatiana? I mean, why would they pit the two of you against each other, planning on you killing her or she killing you or both of you finishing the other off? The plot would make more sense if they made you think that you had murdered a whole family and then made you kill again to break you completely…but still…why Tatiana? And why put you at each other's throats?"

Joe was only half-listening. Something had just clicked in his mind. The Assassins Superior's plot to make Tatiana and Joe kill each other. The fact that they didn't use one of their own agents to convince him. That they were willing to take the risk of using another brainwashed robot. And that fleeting moment, back at the hospital, when he had been overcome with emotions like pure love and an urgency to protect her…the Assassins Superior's whole plot snapped into place and he whispered, "I know who Tatiana is."

Frank looked taken aback, as if after all his intellectual musings and declarations of confusion he couldn't believe that his brother had figured it out—just like that. "What? Seriously? Who?"

Frank had to strain to hear his brother's answer, but when he did hear it, it was a good thing that they had arrived in the parking lot of Greshem General because Frank slammed on the brake, shocked.

"Iola."


	13. Angels Cry

Joe was numb with disbelief as he and his brother entered the Greshem General's waiting room. Iola. He had just spent several hours with Iola and he hadn't even known it. Rage boiled inside of him. The Assassin Superiors had planned this all along…they had probably, secretly hoped that he would escape so that they could inflict this terrible plan on the two of them…

Joe had figured it out. They had had Iola, and had turned her into a completely different person. They had staged the whole Rogers family thing and planted false memories into both their heads. When Joe escaped, they sent a revenge-seeking Tatiana/Iola after him. They knew that Iola would be no match for Joe. Joe would kill her. Then he would discover just who he had killed—his first true love.

And then, only after he was completely and utterly devastated, they would kill him. And probably his whole family.

He shuttered. They needed to get everyone to a safe house as soon as possible; Anya was still on the loose.

He was vaguely aware of Frank's hand resting lightly on his shoulder as they entered. He was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. Iola! He couldn't wait to see her again. He knew that he was in love with Vanessa, but he still had some things he had to say to Iola. Make amends, even if she didn't remember how he wronged her. And he still loved her. In a different way, yes, but he still loved her.

Hopefully they would find a way to get her memories back and perhaps the Network could rework her face so that she looked like the old Iola again…or maybe she would be so traumatized that she would just take on a whole new identity…a whole new life…

Joe had just decided that he didn't like this idea very much when Frank's hand tightened its grip on his shoulder. "Joe! It's Jessi!"

Sure enough, when Joe snapped to attention, he saw his four-year-old niece, a little bruised and dirty but otherwise no worse for the wear, running for them, Fenton trailing along behind, smiling.

"Jessi! Thank God, thank God!" Frank cried, not caring if he was disturbing any of the other people in the waiting room. If he had cared what they thought, he would have realized that they all looked touched. He scooped the child into his arms and began to bawl into her matted blonde hair. "Thank God!" he choked out, on the verge of losing control of himself.

Fenton leaned over to Joe and said, "This is why I didn't tell him on the phone that we had found them—you two wouldn't have made it here in one piece, he'd be so emotional."

Joe nodded and smiled as his dad gave him a warm hug. "Good call, Dad."

He was surprised to hear thick emotion in his father's throat when Fenton said, "Thank God you made it back okay. I was so worried about you son. I just don't think I could deal with you dying a second time. A parent should never have to go through the death of a child once, let alone twice. I love you, Joe."

Slightly taken aback by his father's uncharacteristic display of emotions, Joe replied, "Love you, too, Dad."

Frank had finally calmed down enough to rejoin the conversation, but he was still holding his daughter tightly. Joe leaned over and kissed the little girl. "I'm so proud of you," he said. "You are soooooo brave."

The child giggled and whispered conspiratorially, "I knew you'd be back."

Frank fixed a steady gaze at his father. "Dad—where's Darren? Does his absence have anything to do with why we are meeting at a hospital of all places and why you said I'm really going to hate Gray now?"

"Actually—yes," Fenton said uncomfortably. "He claimed he had good reason to do it, but I haven't had a chance to talk to him myself, so I don't know what was going on in that greasy little head of his…Frank, Darren's getting treated for a minor bullet wound to the shoulder."

"What?" Frank yelped, causing nearly all the people in the waiting area to jump.

As the people pretended not to have heard and went back to trying to eavesdrop while taking on the appearance of being uninterested, Fenton rushed on, "He's okay, I've talked to the doctor; they're not even keeping him overnight. It bled a lot and they had to give him some blood, but the wound was neat and the bullet went straight through—no surgery or anything. They cleaned the wound, stitched it up, and gave him what looks like a year's supply of painkillers. He's just waiting on the doctor to check him out and release him."

Although relieved that Darren's injuries weren't too bad, Frank still wanted to see his son more than anything. However, he had to ask, "What exactly does this have to do with Gray, Dad?"

"He, erm…Gray was the one who shot Darren, Frank."

The fire in Frank's eyes would have struck fear in the heart of the devil. And speaking of the devil…

Frank's phone rang. It was Gray. Frank handed Jessi Marie to Joe. Fenton and Joe both looked away as Frank flipped open the phone and stormed out the doors of the waiting room to talk to Gray alone.

This was not going to be pretty.

* * *

"GRAY—YOU SHOT MY SON, YOU—" the outraged father began when he was out of hearing distance of the nosy waiting room people.

Gray calmly answered (and his lack of emotion angered Frank all the more), having anticipated this very reception,  _"Your daughter ran into the station, babbling about kidnappers and how we were supposed to find Joe. I was following up on a lead that the kids might be somewhere in the area, so I was actually at the station. Lucky for Darren, I took some of the men and went out the back in order to see why your son hadn't come in yet._

_"An Assassin Superior had a gun to the back of Darren's head and literally had his finger on the trigger, moments away from firing. Darren was completely blocking my shot at the Assassin and if I had hesitated even a second longer, your son would be dead. So I did what I had to do—I shot your son in a non-vital area, knowing it would shock the Assassin Superior into dropping him. When Darren was safely out of range, I shot the man who almost killed him through the head. I went for the woman, but she was gone. Not to brag, Mr. Hardy, but I saved your son's life."_

Frank swallowed. As much as he wanted to detest the Gray Man with all of his being, he couldn't. Gray had done what he had had to do to save Frank's son. Frank couldn't deny that.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out. "And I'm s—" The word stuck in his throat. He hated to apologize to this man for anything, annoying and conniving as he was. "—orry," he forced himself to say. There. That was good enough.

The Gray Man didn't seem moved either way by Frank's admission. Instead, he went on to say in that same, obnoxious, professional, "I know better than you" voice,  _"I didn't call to talk to you about what happened at the police station, Frank,"_ he said.  _"No, I'm calling with some news—good_ and  _bad. Which do you want first?"_

Frank blinked. "Uh…the good news, I guess."

_"We captured Anya and removed the Cyanide capsule in her false tooth. She's being questioned by our top interrogator right now. We have developed an even better truth serum that surpasses all conditioning; she will be a landmine of information. With her confession, along with her leader's, we'll have a solid case against them."_

Frank grinned. That  _was_ good news! Now that all of the Assassins Superior were either dead or locked up, their family—after all that turmoil—was finally going to be safe! Then he remembered—"The bad news?"

_"Yes…we apprehended Anya right outside of our headquarters. She had apparently followed Tatiana there. We heard a scream but when we came out it was too late…we apprehended Anya but she had already done her deed…"_

"No," Frank breathed, sickened. "No, she didn't—"

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy. But using a silenced gun, Anya shot Tatiana through the head. She died instantly. There was nothing we could do."_

Frank's head swam. No! "B-but," he stammered, "you don't understand! Tatiana is—"

 _"Iola Morton. I know,"_  Gray said.  _"I tried to tell you this but you hung up on me before I could. How did you find out?"_

"Joe figured it out," Frank said breathlessly. "Joe…how am I going to tell him?"

 _"I'm afraid that is your own problem, Frank,"_  the Gray Man said, and Frank wanted to kill him then and there. _"I'll have my people prepare the body for burial and she will be waiting at Bayport's funeral home. This is your personal business, if you wish to tell the family, be my guest, just don't mention the Network or Assassins—too dangerous."_

"Right," Frank said, his voice tight with a mixture of rage and sadness.

 _"I'm truly sorry,"_  the Gray man said, truly sounding as far from sorry as he could sound.  _"I hope your brother doesn't take it too hard."_

Frank hung up and stared at the entrance to the hospital. He knew his brother was in there, wanting to know what Gray had said and how bad Frank had let him have it. But Frank didn't have the nerve to go in there. Not yet.

He wasn't ready to tear his brother's world to pieces yet again.


	14. Lucy

_"Hey Lucy, I remember your name. I left a dozen roses on your grave today. I'm on my knees in the grass, wipe the leaves away. Just came to talk for a while, got some things I need to say. Now that it's over, I just want to hold her. I'd give up all the world to see that little piece of heaven looking back at me. Now that's it's over, I just want to hold her. I gotta live with the choices I've made, but I can't live with myself today."  
 **"Lucy" by Skillet (ForeFront Records) from Awake**_

* * *

 

The funeral was a small affair. Iola was placed in her mausoleum, her new face still intact (even though the Network had offered to rework her face so that she would look like herself), because the Mortons had decided that it would be so. Iola had died in the explosion—and Tatiana had been born from the ashes, created and molded by people of evil for their own selfish purposes. They knew that was their daughter, but then again, she wasn't…she was Tatiana now. As long as they decided that their daughter had died that day in the mall parking lot, they wouldn't have to face her death again—not really.

The past few weeks had been extremely difficult.. Joey had been released from the hospital with an order of strict bed-rest. He was confined to a wheel chair and would start physical therapy soon. Although they made no promises, the doctors were optimistic that he would be able to walk again someday in the future.

Darren's shoulder was healing nicely; the stitches were due to be taken out next Thursday. Life was slowly changing back to normal, but an air of depression and anxiety hung over the entire Hardy family, especially Joe.

Joe was still living with his brother. He had taken the news of Iola's death considerably well. When Frank had told him, Joe's eyes had become distant and far-off, but he had simply nodded. He had become more weighed down and sad, and he didn't talk much about it. He had been the only one not to cry at the funeral. Sometimes he would take off down the street on foot, and although he never asked, Frank knew just where Joe was going: the cemetery, just like he had done over a decade ago after Iola had first died.

Everyone had tried to reach out to Joe, afraid that he was going to go spiraling into another endless bout of depression, but he didn't respond to their efforts. He just wouldn't speak about it.

Rather, he  _would_ speak about it, but only to one person.

* * *

It was early May. Joe sat on the grass and closed his eyes, letting the light breeze caress his face. The warm spring sun tickled his closed eyelids and painted the darkness of his vision with a beautiful array of orange light. The grass was cool and damp, the trees were full and plump. The sky was an amazing color of blue. Joe Hardy had not felt this at peace in a long time.

He glanced beside him. He was sitting on the ground next Iola's grave. He had done this very thing many times before after her "death" so many years ago, but this time was different…he knew that Iola was in there. Somehow, although it hurt that he had lost her yet again, the sense of closure had begun to comfort him.

Today, Joe had come here for a special reason. He had been contemplating this moment for a while and had finally found the words to say. He sighed, then started talking, scaring a squirrel that had been venturing close to the mausoleum and causing it to hop away. "I'm sorry, Iola," he said, and already he heard his voice begin to crack. "Life isn't fair, I know that…I've found that out more times than I hope to remember." He felt a tear streak down his cheek but made no move to brush it away. This was a time when he had to let his emotions go free.

"Twice you've been 'killed' and twice I've escaped relatively unscathed. I keep thinking about what Dad said the other day in the hospital…a parent should never have to go through the death of their child once, let alone twice…well your parents have. I mean, I know they have tried to keep the pain down and pretend that you were already dead…that you weren't alive for twenty years, being brainwashed and tortured. And that's good for them. I don't want to cause them any more grief. I just…I just don't understand. Why you? And why not me?

"I know you spent the past twenty years not knowing who you were. It makes me sick that there are people out there like the Assassins Superior who will literally tear apart a person's life to fit their own selfish agenda. I know. I've been through it. I guess the only difference is, I survived. Why?

"You know who you are, now, though. I know you do. And maybe your family is right…for all purposes, Iola Morton did die in that explosion…you certainly ceased to exist then…and Tatiana was living in your body, kind of like how Eric was living in mine.

"That's another thing. I'm sorry that you never found out who you were or got a chance to get your life back before you died. I don't know why I was allowed to get rescued, to get out of that situation, and you were left floundering for yourself until you were killed yet again." Several more tears carved a path down his cheek. "I…I loved you, Iola," he said. "I still do…just in a different way. That's kind of why I came today. I wanted to get this off my chest once and for all. I'm tired of the guilt and pain…I haven't been able to speak about this to anyone because I've felt so guilty about being alive and being myself while you are gone…again.

"So here goes: Iola, I'm sorry I couldn't do more to protect you that day in the mall. I'm sorry about the keys and the blonde…I'm sorry that I didn't realize who you were the minute I saw you again…I'm sorry I was even contemplating killing you…and I'm sorry that you didn't get the chance to find out who you were and discover your family again…and I did. I'm sorry…" He couldn't speak. He just sat there and cried.

He cried…and felt. Instead of trying to ignore or reason away the pain, he was, for the first time, immersing himself in the emotions instead of trying to detach himself from them. He concentrated on feeling—truly wallowing in the pure pool of emotions—every single drop of anger, hate, terror, guilt, depression just the way it was meant to be felt. With passion, without thought or reason. Simply illogical, animal instinct taking over. For the first time in his life, Joe Hardy truly knew what it felt like to be driven to his knees, to rock bottom, by a barrage of emotions. Instead of running away, however, this time he had faced and embraced what he felt.

He didn't know how long he cried, but when he was done, he was exhausted. It had been like his pain and emotion had welled up inside of him and then flowed out with his tears. When lifted his head, he felt weak and shaky, but better than he had in a long, long time.

Although he by no means had overcome his grief, he was at peace. He had discovered something that most people go their whole lives ignorant of: the only way to deal with your feelings is to embrace them and instead of pushing it away, concentrate on the pain with every ounce of your being.

"Iola," he said, his voice thick and gravelly with emotion. "I'm going to ask Vanessa to marry me after Darren's graduation party…I know we're already married, but I want to make it official…again. And I—I just wanted to let you know that I don't think I'll be here as much, just because I think I'm almost ready to move on. Not from you, but with the pain associated with you, the guilt I never should have felt. There's a lot of stuff that could still be weighing me down, but I'm not going to let it. Not anymore." He stood and brushed himself off, then smiled at the mausoleum and pictured Iola as the beautiful young girl he had fallen in love with so long ago.

"I'll always love you, Iola," he said. "You gave me some of the best years of my life and you'll always be my first love. But I've come to realize that it's time for me to move on with my own family. I think that's what you'd want. I can't dwell in the past anymore. I've had a hard one, there's no denying that, and I lost fifteen years of it…I don't feel sorry for myself though. You lost…everything. But I don't feel sorry for you, either. You're happy now. And if you're happy, I think it's only fair that I be happy too. And now I'm only going to be looking to the future; the past is gone. Let it stay where it belongs…behind me." He chuckled. "Hakuna Matata, I guess.

"I love you."

He felt his heart soar and he knew that somehow, everything was going to be okay. He had a bright future ahead of him.

As he ran back to Frank's house, where everyone—including Chet and the Mortons, Tony and his son, Joe's family, Laura and Fenton, even Chief Riley—were gathering for dinner, he began to laugh. His voice was carried by the winds up to the heavens.

Somewhere up there, Iola Morton heard his melodious laughter and started to laugh along with him. He had finally gotten it—it was time to move on.


	15. Whispers in the Dark

_"Despite the lies that you're making, your love is mine for the taking. My love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses. I'm gonna be the one that's gonna hold you. I'm gonna be the one that you run to. My love is a burning, consuming fire. And now you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, I'll light the night with stars, with the whispers in the dark."  
 **"Whispers in the Dark" by Skillet (ForeFront Records) from Comatose**_

* * *

 

Frank Hardy's backyard had never been so crowded. They had decided to hold Darren's graduation party at the house instead of the park. The family, relatives, friends, and friends-of-friends that had showed up to celebrate his son's graduation were everywhere; talking and laughing, joking and smiling. A pile of cards lay on a table next to the refreshments. He had long ago lost his oldest son in the midst of the crowd. He chuckled to himself. Who knew that his son was  _this_ popular?

He felt a pair of arms slip around his waist. "Hey, you." Still captive in her arms, Frank eased himself around to face his wife and kissed her soundly.

"Hey yourself."

Callie smiled at him. "I'm so glad that everything is working out…sure, we've hit a lot of bumps along the way, but for the most part, everything is coming together pretty well…I mean, Darren graduated with honors and is heading for college in the fall, Joe will be finished with his classes, even after the delay, in July, and you guys are just a few months away from opening your detective agency you dreamed about as kids…"

"And Joe's finally happy," Frank smiled. He nodded to where his brother was surrounded by a bunch of high school boys and even a few dreamy-eyed teenage girls who were listening to whatever he was saying with rapt attention. Frank shook his head. "He loves regaling Darren and Joline's friend with his wild stories of adventures. It's like he gets some kind of kick out of making a bunch of teenagers think he's Superman."

Callie laughed. "Well, he may as well be…I mean, after the hell he's been through he's made it through…and like you said, he's happy. He's not pretending, either. He's really, genuinely happy."

She was right. Joe's turn for the best had been miraculous and spontaneous. They hadn't seen it coming, but he had become even happier than he had ever been after he had come back. He was acting like the old Joe—the Joe that Frank hadn't fully seen since before Iola had been "killed" in the mall parking garage. He didn't know what had brought about the change, but he had decided that it was Joe's personal experience and if he wanted to tell Frank, he would.

* * *

Joline stood next to Jacob as she watched Joey, using a walker but getting better every day, flanked by Jessi Marie and Darren headed their direction. When Darren got within hugging distance, Joline pounced. Darren laughed and spun his cousin and best friend around one time then set her down. Joline grinned and said, "Congrats, cuz! You made it! What are you going to do next?"

Darren laughed. "Hey, Jo." He nodded at Jacob. "Yo, Jacob. Just wanted to say thanks for taking care of my little cousin while you were off investigating. And thanks again, both of you, for caring enough to disobey Dad to look for Jessi and I."

"Yeah," Joey piped in, his green eyes sparking with mischief. "If you hadn't, Darren might not still be here to nag me."

Darren made a face at his little brother, but it was all in fun. Jessi Marie, clad in a frilly yellow dress flashed a sweet little smile. "D'ya like my party dress?"

"Yes, very much!" Joline over-emphasized, causing her cousin to giggle sweetly. Luckily, the little girl had suffered no lasting psychological damage from her ordeal. At first, her parents had tried to get her to talk to a child psychologist, but it was clear that Jessi could care less about discussing her ordeal (after all, "big brudder" would always take care of her).

Joline was happy. She was so glad that everything was starting to work out for her family. They had been through a lot, but they were finally starting to get through it and that knowledge made every danger she had faced worthwhile.

As she searched the crowd with observant blue eyes, however, she noticed one face that stood out in the crowd, a face that looked a bit down. Her mother. "Hey, guys, I'll be back," she said, then disappeared into the mass of people to seek out her mom.

* * *

Vanessa jumped when she heard her daughter's voice ring out from behind her. "Mom! What's wrong?"

Vanessa forced a smile. "Nothing, baby. Now why don't you go on out and enjoy the party? Your friends are probably missing you."

"Well, of course they are!" Joline joked. "Who wouldn't? I'm me!" Then, growing serious, she asked again, "Now what's wrong, Mom? You look really down."

Vanessa sighed. "Look, honey, it's nothing I need to concern you with."

"Mom, I want to be here for you!" Joline insisted. "Can't you let me know what's bothering you? Please? You know you can trust me."

Her mother smiled. "You're right, honey. The truth is, I want to be happy. I mean, this is a wonderful day! Everyone's dreams are starting to come together…"

"Except yours?" Joline guessed. Vanessa raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement and Joline went on. "It's about Daddy, isn't it? You're discouraged because he seems happy where he is. He hasn't made any effort to try to move back in and get things back to normal. He seems to have reached a stage of contentment where he feels comfortable and doesn't seem to want to step outside of the comfort zone that is living at Uncle Frank's. You're afraid that he'll stay there forever and that you'll never get your husband back. Am I right?"

Vanessa stared at her daughter, then shook her head in bewilderment. "When did you get so wise?" she half laughed and half cried.

Joline shrugged. "Don't worry, Mom," she said, giving Vanessa a hug. "I'm sure everything will work out…"

* * *

Joe and Vanessa were walking down the road. Joe had pulled her aside and asked if she wanted to get away from the chaos of the party, and Vanessa had readily agreed. Joe had stopped just long enough to congratulate his nephew once again and let Frank know they would be back later, and they had started their walk.

Vanessa didn't know how long they had strolled down the street in contented silence. His had was strong but gentle, she mused, as he squeezed hers lightly. She loved him so much! She felt the familiar ache in her heart as she wondered if it would be like this forever. Not that she didn't enjoy these moments—but why couldn't she have them all the time? She wanted him back in the house so bad, wanted her old life back…she wanted a husband.

They were at Bayport Park. She hadn't even noticed where they were headed until they got there. Joe, still holding her hand, led her to the edge of the pond that glistened in the dusky sky. The sun was just beginning to set behind it, and the array of colors was magnificent. "It's beautiful," Joe said, but when Vanessa looked at him to agree, he was staring at her. She blushed.

"Kind of like old times," she said softly. "Do you remember the day you asked me to marry you?" Maybe he would get the hint.

Joe shrugged half-heartedly and released her hand. "It's kind of fuzzy, actually," he said playfully. "You want to remind me?"

Vanessa giggled. She knew this game. Since Joe had come back, on their various dates they had reenacted some of their more special moments from their past together, with Vanessa helping Joe remember some of the details that may have still been missing since the brainwashing. This was the first time he had ever asked her to recreate his proposal, though. At least he was taking a genuine interest. It was a start, she supposed.

"Okay," she said. "Go back about fifteen feet." Joe did as he asked. "Now, you, being the romantic joker that you are, walked forward [Joe walked forward], tripped over your feet [Joe made a big show of falling to his knees right in front of her and she laughed again], and then when you pulled yourself up you were on one knee, and then you sprung the r—"

She stopped, stunned. When Joe had come up, he had indeed been holding a red satin-lined box. He was on one knee. He opened the box. A beautiful glistening ring lay inside, more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Tears welled up in Vanessa's eyes. When Joe spoke, his voice was husky. "I think I can take it from here," he said, emotion thickening his voice. She thought her heart was going to explode. "Vanessa Bender Hardy, I love you. I've always loved you. You are my world and my life. Will you continue to be? Forever? Vanessa, will you marry me…again?"

For several long moments, she just stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, not even caring that her mascara was probably running. She had been wrong—so wrong! He wanted to marry her after all!

"Vanessa?" Joe's voice was hesitant, as if he was afraid she would say no.

Vanessa flung herself into his arms. "Yes, yes, yes!" she squealed. She kissed him long and hard, and when they finally disentangled themselves nearly ten minutes later, Joe gave his fiancé/wife a lopsided grin and simply said, "Awesome."

And awesome was most definitely the most appropriate word he could have used.

The passionate love they shared, the beautiful daughter, the family that would always be there to support them, the hope for the future and release from the past all melted together to form a beautifully crafted picture of the good things that were to come. As the couple, deeply in love, stood side-by-side and gazed out over the pond that was growing darker in sync with the sky, a deep sense of peace and anticipation for what was to come filled the atmosphere. Everything was right…things were working out…everything was going to be okay.

Suddenly Joe groaned. "Oh, crap."

"What?" Vanessa asked instantly, terrified of anything that would spoil her fairy tale moment.

"Who's going to tell Frank that his maid is moving out?"

Vanessa snorted and smacked him on the arm. "Goof," she laughed affectionately.

Yes, the future was very bright indeed.

**THE END**


End file.
